The Great Love Note Mystery!
by Lady-Arsene
Summary: Senior Arthur Kirkland is a bookworm with the totally original crush on jock Alfred F. Jones. In the spur of a moment, Arthur leaves a poem in Alfred's locker, and tells Alfred he knows who left it. Leading to Alfred employing Arthur's aide in his search to find who wrote the love letter. Unbeknownst to him, Alfred's working with the writer.
1. Chapter 1

Through the crystal clear window of Mrs. Kirkland's advanced English class, Arthur Kirkland would watch the football team spar during their weights class. His mother, obviously the English teacher, droned on and on about The Great Gatsby, while her son's gaze was ensnared by something otherworldly, something so stunningly handsome, something that was so incredibly unoriginal. The appearance of the star quarterback and fellow senior; Alfred F. Jones. Arthur couldn't help but to feel infatuated with that football player, nearly every student of either gender or no gender were floating on the very same boat-though it was a bit clichéd but Arthur didn't want to ponder about it for more than two minutes and twenty-three seconds.

Unfortunately, Alfred and Arthur never co-existed in their past. Arthur was always an embodiment of a rainy day, and that deeply harshed Alfred's constant chipper mood. So they never once become friends nor acquaintances, and only conversed when it came to projects and interviews for journalism.

And that put Arthur at a disadvantage compared to the other sods he was learning alongside. So, Arthur decided to do something about it; make a stand for once in his life. Something that was sure to catch every student as well as every teacher's attention. That's exactly why he didn't scribble his name on it.

'Aphrodite details who we love; matches us together with her eye; we may not know it; but we are destined to be.'

Hilariously cheesy, am I right? Or am I right?

Nonetheless, he planned on delivering it to Alfred's locker in the flesh. Take a hall-pass and sneak the note into Alfred's locker-Which just so happened to be side-by-side with Arthur's own. Once Mrs. Kirkland, Morrígan to her son Arthur here, had ceased her analyzing of, spoiler alert, Gatsby's death scene, Arthur ventured up to his mother's desk with a simple question on his mind.

"May I use the washroom?"

"Why yes, you may, love. Hurry back."

With a hastened thanks escaping his lips, Arthur skedaddled out of the classroom-with a skip to his step.

The halls were vacant, and Arthur's brown loafers caused boisterous clacking sounds against the blue-tiles he walked upon, and the classrooms were sealed off to shelter themselves from any stragglers wandering the halls to escape class if only for a moment. And chatter from both the expansive library and the tiny teacher's lounge clouded the whole school, with Arthur learning the secret to the perfect casserole as well as the status of Mr. Beilschimdt's younger brother health. Going back to the halls being vacant! Arthur descended a flight of stairs from the English infested fourth floor to the senior lockers on the third floor, in order to reach his navy blue locker. He was able to decipher which locker was his, since his was sandwiched in between the overly decorated lockers of Alfred and soccer star Francis Bonnefoy-yet his wasn't touched with touched with a flaming ten foot pole by the cheerleaders and their glittery handmade cards the waste class time on. Holding the folded paper to his chest, Arthur sealed off his emerald green eyes and silently prayed for the best in his tragic life-which was rather odd considering he hadn't a clue as to what religion he held the banner for. With one swift movement, Arthur slid the note through the grills of the locker; huffing as if he just concluded a marathon.

Then the realization that that very note was so incredibly stupid, that it would be used as quality blackmail if Arthur's cover was blown, smacked him upside the head. At a time that was entirely all too late; and the house of cards came crashing down. Arthur's face became flushed with a crimson red as his eyes nearly popped free from his eye sockets.

'Look at what you did, you bloody moron! Alfred's going to read it and see how pathetic you really are… How chipper! Antonio and Francis left you for a reason… Alfred was just going to do the same…'

Thank you kindly Arthur's demented conscious, he surely needed that to be said!

The obnoxious alarm shrieked, and the joyous chatter flooded into the hallways. The students swarmed past him as he stood cherry-faced and ready to collapse into a coma. He sighed deeply as he felt the faintest storm of tears tickle at the corners of his eyes. Arthur stared dejectedly at the floor as he started on his journey back to his mother's classroom. Francis, who was mentioned twice before, greeted him with a foreign word and an exchange student from Romania said hello as well, yet Arthur was too far along on the path of shame that he completely disregarded their existence.

"Love, that was certainly a long bathroom break." Miss Morrígan stated when her rain-cloud of a son walked on into the classroom.

"How long?"

"Fifteen minutes… Is everything all right?"

Arthur shuffled over to his partially vandalized desk, his shoes sliding against the gross carpeted floor. "Define 'All right'." He said, picking up his stack of textbooks at the corner of his desk. "I think our definitions are worlds apart." He tacked on as he began to head over to the door.

Miss Morrígan tore the glasses off her face and set them down by her grading papers. "If my memory serves, that word means-" She started, yet was rudely interrupted by her sad sap of a son opening the door and exiting the classroom-his textbooks cradled in his arms. School had just concluded, it was also a Friday, so the hallways were near barren when Arthur returned to the scene of his crime. Save for a few stragglers dashing past him to head to the bus, Arthur Kirkland was completely, and utterly, alone by his locker. He was a gigantic ray of sunshine after opening his locker. Slowly placing his textbooks on a wire shelf her bought for that sole purpose, as he mumbled under his breath on how pathetic of a human being he was.

Then he hears it. A noise that made his heart shudder and flutter all at once. Arthur's muscles clamped up as the noise inched closer and closer. If it wasn't obvious by now, the noise was indeed Alfred F. Jones heading on up the steps from the second floor; his obnoxious voice ringing through the walls.

"Bloody hell." Arthur thought, as he began to act as if he was rummaging through his locker in search of a textbook-that he just shoved into his locker. "...hopefully this doesn't end like Hamlet…"

Alfred bid his twin brother adieu, since Matthew had to attend to his after-school club and all that, before approaching his locker-having to elbow Arthur's locker door out of his personal space. The American fumbled around with the grey lock before managing to remember the right combination, and watching Arthur's note fall out of the locker. Arthur felt his heart drop into his stomach, as he saw-out of the corner of his eye-Alfred unfold the note and skim over it with those breathtaking blue eyes of his. When Arthur assumed Alfred was done reading his masterpiece-judging by three minutes that had slipped by after Alfred unfolded it-the Englishman slammed his locker shut, a notebook clutched tightly to his chest, as he attempted to evacuate the premise.

However, a floating being above his head had different plans.

"Hey, dude." Alfred called after Arthur began to book it, nonetheless he caught Arthur's attention once the bushy-browed man braked on his heels. "Did ya' see who slipped this in my locker?" He asked, more in a commanding tone than a sweet one.

"Perhaps I do." Arthur began, furthering catching Alfred's attention. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I just wanna know."

"That isn't a very… good explanation…"

"It's the best I got."

Sighing, Arthur dug his stubby nails into the side and spine of his math notebook. "Yes, I do know who it is… but they wish to remain a secret." He lied straight through his teeth, hustling along back into his mother's classroom before Alfred could pry any further.

Once in the safety of the English classroom, Arthur's knees began to shake and buckle into themselves as he attempted the long stretch to his belongings. While Miss Morrígan's attention was bagged by her grading, Arthur slipped the notebook into his backpack before indulging in a few quick mental words of encouragement. Then Miss Morrígan raised her head up from the badly-edited essays to glance at her bouncing baby boy.

"Now do you wish to speak?"

"Give it until Monday… You'll hear some gossip, then we'll talk."

Arthur spent his Friday night wallowing in his shame. Being his grumpy old self while watching reality television to feel better about himself, while cuddling with his white and brown spotted cat and pouring his heart out to him. Before promptly consuming an entire box of Twinkies, then returning to his binge session of Real Housewives. However, the next day, Arthur didn't have the time to wallow in his shame; he was desperately needed at work and placed responsibility above all else.

After receiving a ride from his mother, Arthur began his part-time job at the three floors of a library located in the bustling heart of the downtown. His main task being, sorting the books and placing them in the correct order-either by a last name or by that blighted decimal system. Luckily, Arthur momentarily forgot all about yesterday's fiasco whilst skimming through a romance novel that peaked his interest. It was about some English professor falling in love with one of his students, while risking losing his son, yet the student happened to have fallen in love with his teacher and helped him cope with the impending trial. Arthur was very well near the end, when he felt a finger poke his shoulder and a voice all too familiar entered his ear.

Now let's just watch the shame flood right back in.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked, slamming the novel shut and presenting Alfred with a well placed glare.

All the jock did in the face of that glare was smile. "Y'know, heard from my bro that you work here an' all. And ya' kinda know who the person who wrote the note-"

"No." Arthur interrupted, attempting his best to keep his voice at a whisper.

"Aw!" Alfred whined. "C'mon, why won't you tell me"

"Because, that poor sod wants to remain anonymous."

"But…" Alfred whined once more, using his puppy-dog eyes as a weapon but it wasn't very effective against Arthur. So, he tried to bring out his inner muse. "No one's written me a note like that-"

"You're trying to sympathize with me, aren't you know? I'm a bookworm, I'm supposed to hate you."

"Let me finish!" Alfred demanded, his voice cracking in between volumes. "All I get are flat out proposes to, uh, y'know what I mean. And a whole squad of girls flirting with me at once. Not a single letter."

Arthur felt somewhat flattered, since he was the one who wrote the letter Alfred was complementing, yet the constant state of dread he was experiencing was causing him to hide who was the perpetrator with that note. "Once again, you're trying to sympathize with me."

"Ugh, you're so difficult…" Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose, as someone down the aisle of books was presenting them with a confused look harboring in his eyes. "I'm asking-"

"Ooh~ Isn't that a new practice for you!"

"I'M ASKING that ya' tell me who wrote it, since you said you knew who wrote it, right dude?" Alfred pushed, breaking down Arthur's sarcastic walls. "If not, I'm just gonna find out on my own."

"Okay, have fun with that-"

Now it was Alfred's time to interrupt. "And you're gonna help me with it. You Brits like Sherlock Holmes, right? You, dude, totally have to be like him!"

Arthur felt his eyelids twitch, no doubt the man he was so infatuated with happened to be so idiotic as well. "You just labeled me a stereotype…" In the end, Arthur found himself sighing, as he set the book clutched in his hands down onto the cart. "My shift ends in an hour… I'll help you find out who it is then."


	2. Chapter 2

Despite Arthur's wishes, one nearly hour had slipped on by without much of a protest by any other individual within the library. Our miserable Arthur here had clocked on for the day, and bid farewell to the little old librarians sitting in their swivel chairs behind the oak counters, before venturing around to uncover where Alfred vanished off to during his one hour wait time. Yet after a quick comb through the first floor, Alfred was found safe and sound snoozing at a table by the tour guided to Europe-and with Arthur poking his shoulder three times, Alfred was back in the land of the living. "All right, Watson, how do you want to proceed?"  
Alfred blinked rapidly up at Arthur, his eyes adjusting yo the brightness of the fluorescent lights shining down on him, before lifting his head up from hid makeshift pillow his arms crossed together to created. Rolling back his shoulders, he produced a closed mouth groan before saying. "I don't know, I've never been on an investigation before." He admitted while popping his neck, which caused Arthur to flinch at the noise. "Can ya at least tell me one thing?"  
"What is it?"  
"What grade are they?"  
"Ours, why? Did you think a freshman was flirting with you?"  
"No, dude. I was just seeing if I could get somethin' outta you."  
"Marvelous question, then." Arthur replied, pulling out a chair right across from where Alfred was situated and plopped himself down with a sigh of relief-since his aching feet were immediately cured. "It's all you're going to get from me."  
A smirk wormed its way onto Alfred's lips, a victorious smirk of sorts, as he leaned back in his chair. "That's all I need, you see. It's only out grade we gotta start lookin' at! Now, we need to make a list!" Alfred looked over at Arthur with pleading blue eyes, his charms causing their conversation to halt momentarily as Arthur had to speak to the librarians and coax a piece of paper and a pencil out of them.  
"We already have a few people we can throw off the list right away! My bro, Ivan, you-"  
"Wait-wait-wait." Arthur raised a finger up to silence Alfred in his tracks. "Me?"  
"Yeah, you can't be the writer, right? Why would you help me?" The American explained.  
"Oh... Uh..." Arthur uttered, any feeling other than grumpiness being thrown our the window with that simple phrase. "That makes sense, I suppose." He muttered, just a tint of sadness lingering around in his voice. "Who else?"  
"Anyone currently dating! Prom's comin' up in two months, lots of people have dates."  
"For prom or as lovers?  
"First, never say 'lovers' again, dude." Alfred said. "Second, both."  
Rolling his eyes, Arthur placed his arms over his petite chest, trying to offer up a checkmate for this little detective work that Alfred dragged him into. "And how are we going to get that information?"  
"Aren't you in journalism or somethin'? Interview out whole grade!"  
Check and mate, Arthur. I sincerely hope you enjoy socializing with your peers.  
The Englishman's shoulders scrunched up as the new revelation frightened him just a tad bit. "Being friendly and social isn't my forte now..." He argued, staring down Alfred with fury in his green eyes and fury in the furrowing of his brow. "You're the one who roped me into this! You should do it!" His voice was rising in such a quiet environment, that a few eyes had hit their table.  
"Hey, you voluntarily agreed to help, dude!" Alfred said in his defense, actually being a polite child since he kept his voice in a hushed tone.  
"You gave me a sob story!"  
"You still said yes!"  
Arthur groaned rather loudly and slumped back in his plush chair, before sliding down in his seat causing him to look like a pouting child at a dining table. One of the little old lady librarians slowly made ger way over to Alfred's and Arthur's table, while they sat in complete and utter silence, and politely told Arthur to hush up before softly patting his shoulder and offering a sweet smile as she disembarked from the table.  
Glancing everywhere but at Alfred, Arthur's mind was in shambles as he came to a verdict-one he would later cone to regret. "I'll do it... But I'll need to go home and get some questions ready, god be willing that this does work."  
Alfred's face lit up like an overly decorated Christmas tree, mouth agape as hr presented Arthur with a toothy grin. "Awesome bro!" He exclaimed, his voice sounding strained as he attempted to keep his voice down. "Gimme your number so you can keep me updated!"  
Well, Arthur wasn't completely dreading his decision anymore. And with a slight blush dusting his cheeks, Arthur tore a corner off the paper in front of him and scribbled down his number-making it legible for Alfred's sake since cursive is a dying art. "Here." Arthur slid the piece of paper over to Alfred as he stood up before he became even more flustered. "I better get going home now. Thank you for your time."  
"I can give you a ride home, dude. I kept ya here."  
Aren't you on a lucky streak, Arthur! However, the Englishman here was beyond flustered and downright rejected Alfred's offer and fished his phone out of his pocket to text his mother and begged her to pick him up. Following a confused chuckle, Alfred bud Arthur farewell before making his leave to his car parked up front.  
Sighing to himself, Arthur's mind was racing before he scavenged the library for how-to guides for falling in love, as well as cheesy romance novels to gain some inspiration from, and went out to his mother's car with a stack of books reaching his nose. Miss Morrígan being able to read the spines of the books when Arthur set them in the back seat. 'Totally in Love! A Teenagers Guide to Falling in Love!' and 'How to Fall in Love.' also 'How to get your Crush to Notice you!' and let's not forget 'Love or is it Teenage Hormones?' Miss Morrígan was seriously doubting her son's sanity.  
"Poppet?" Miss Morrígan called out once her son was situated in the passenger seat. "What are all those for?"  
"Oh!" Arthur let out, biting his bottom lip as he came up with a response. "I'm writing an article for school... About the bloody prom and all that. And I haven't a clue as to what questions to ask, so I checked out those books for inspiration, Mummy."  
"Uh well... You certainly are an odd duck..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you going to fill out the survey or not, you bloody frog?"

"Oui, mon ami."

"Then why aren't you."

"Because, I would never have thought you would be asking moi this."

As if it weren't obvious all ready, Arthur went forth with the plan he and Alfred-though mostly Alfred-had conjured up in the library during the weekend. Arthur basically ate up all those books he checked out. Learning how to slut-it-up as well as discovering which questions to ask his classmates. Monday morning, Arthur awkwardly asked the journalism teacher, Mr. Picardy, if he could run the article for the school newspaper or not. After receiving a yes, the British boy announced the poll's existence over the intercoms, and a day later Arthur was wasting his lunch sitting at a grey fold-out table and hopelessly waiting for the answers to pour on in. Oh, was it neglected to be mentioned that the teachers had to partake in the poll. Ah yes, the fellow members in Journalism were taking this as their opportune moment to fond out more about their favorite teachers, and Arthur was the one who was suffering through it. Mr. Beilschmidt blathering on and on about his sex life, Mr. Caesar casually chatting about all those pretty ladies he finds around town, and Mrs. Héderváry telling that in elementary school that she was the most attractive male in school-yet she discovered that she was indeed of the female anatomy when entering high school. Nonetheless, the experience was painful and Arthur here wasn't done with his ex-boyfriend Francis quite yet.

"It was a request, and Mr. Picardy rolled with it... Ugh, just give me your answers!" Arthur restrained his yelling voice however it sounded as if he was constipated. "Luckily, your girlfriend was here all ready, so... What do you plan on doing on prom night?"

"Having a fantastique dinner of the finest French cuisine before dancing the night away! The night will be trés magnifique!"

Furrowing his brows and presented a look of disgust, Arthur continued with. "Are you planning on running for prom queen or king?"

"Ah, oui-oui. My looks will win the crown!"

"Ugh, that's all... You can leave now."

Pursing his lips together, Francis produced a faint hum in his throat before saying. "That wasn't a lot of questions."

"I didn't want to ask you the rest of them."

"Have it your way, Monsieur Black Sheep." Francis shrugged as Arthur's eyes twitched out of irritation from the nickname. "Au revoir!" He announced before walking away towards his crowded lunch table.

Sighing to himself while slumping down and losing his perfect posture, Arthur crossed off Francis' name from his list of seniors. There was a grand total of twenty seniors who hadn't taken the survey, and it was rather obvious that Arthur would be forced to call then into the journalism room the very next day. Yet, before he could officially pack up his little side show, Miss Morrígan approached her son at his little set up, there to take the survey of course.

"Good day, love!" She greeted with a bright smile normally reserved for her son alone. "I was told that the teachers had to take this poll."

Flipping through a notebook, Arthur held it yo once he stumbled over his desired page. "I figured I should have filled it out for you. And I did."

"Arthur, poppet, shouldn't I be answering those questions?" Miss Morrígan inquired as she scanned over her sons answers; placing a hand over her clothed hip.

"You aren't denying what I put down is false."

"You are correct love... But, wouldn't it sound more authentic coming from me?"

"But the answers aren't wrong."

Miss Morrígan narrowed her eyes and presented Arthur with an all-knowing maternal glare. "You just don't want me answering those questions."

"Asking you own mother questions that can lead into her sex life is almost as embarrassing as asking a classmate, or a teacher, you've known since you were five." Arthur said in one giant breath, as his last chance effort to dissuade his mother from taking the questionnaire. "Besides, I'm your son that you spill your secrets to when you're drunk. Trust me."

"Hmph." Miss Morrígan huffed. "Fine, have it your way. But that means we're having meatloaf for dinner."

"I hate meatloaf!"

"Then it's a fair trade-off." Miss Morrígan winked and smiled at her flustered son, and turned around before Arthur had the chance to retort.

Arthur ran his hand through his bangs as he huffed in frustration. The poor sod was ready to throw in the towel and call it a day, however, a new friend of his decided to swing on by. Alfred decided to spend his last three minutes of lunch conversing with the Watson to his Sherlock. Alfred announced his departure to his bustling group of friends before making his presence known to the Brit lying in wait. "Hey, dude! Any progress?"

This was the first time in the last few hours where Arthur has felt a single drop of happiness. But, he wouldn't make that known to Alfred. "Twenty students are left for questioning, one of which is you, but those classmates of ours are going to be called in tomorrow, during journalism." Arthur said, before glancing down at the table's surface and seeing a yellow notepad lying there. "Oh! And I've taken the initiative and complied all the lonely seniors into a list." The blonde Brit held up the notepad for Alfred to see. "Obviously, I don't know every person who hates you, so you may take the list and refine it all you want."

"I can take it?" Alfred cocked his head to the side; his cowlick bouncing with the sudden movement.

"Isn't that what I just said."

With his signature smile, Alfred snatched the notepad from Arthur's grasp and said. "Thanks, dude! I'll give it back to you before I leave today!"

"Jolly good, do what-"

Out of the blue, the bell shrieked and the students in the lunchroom rose and began heading to their next class. Alfred thanked the bushy-eyebrowed man one last tune before hustling back to his lunch table to grab his backpack. Arthur watched Alfred leave with a hint of sadness in those greens eyes, however, he shrugged the feeling off and began to pack his belongings-being thankful he was a simple library aide in the coming hour.

Alfred, on the other hand, traveled to his calculus class with the notepad in his hand. Calculus was a class he paid zero attention in, which meant compulsive studying the night before any tests, so the intriguing notepad was a part of his lesson plans that class period. Since he had permission from Arthur, Alfred went forth and crossed off any names he knew weren't the creator of the love note. However, there was one name awkwardly stuck in the middle of the list that boggled his mind for a moment. 'Arthur Kirkland' was written in delicate cursive writing. Alfred hadn't known whether or not to laugh it off as a practice joke, or take it seriously as if Arthur was head-over heels in love.

So, he figured it would be best to ask the man who wrote the list.

When passing period arrive, Alfred texted Arthur to meet him by their lockers before either of them headed off to class. Though, while Alfred was waiting for Arthur's grand arrival, he decided to tuck his calculus textbook into his messy locker.

And out came another folded up note tumbling out of the locker.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur was beyond confused when he received two text messages from Alfred, one requesting the Brit to meet him by their lockers for an emergency meeting and another telling Arthur to take a hall pass and meet Alfred in the fourth floor's bathroom. So after the bell rang and signaled the last class of the day to begin, Arthur graciously asked his mother to grant him permission for a trip to the privy before heading off to the restroom Alfred was texting about.

"Why did you drag me out of class now, you git?" Arthur asked after he pushed open the restroom's door and spotted Alfred leaning on a small portion of the wall dividing the sinks from the urinals.

With Arthur's statement ringing in his ears, Alfred was broken out if his trance and greeted Arthur with a wink and a grin. "Yo, dude, you won't believe what fell out of my locker!" The ditsy blonde boy reached into his withering, yet comfortable, brown bomber jacket-that covered his school uniform-and pulled out a folded white note, and held it out fit Arthur as he pushed himself off the tilled wall and inched towards Arthur. "Read it."

Grumbling profanities under his breath, Arthur snatched the note from Alfred and unfolded the note before scanning over the contents. 'I hate how you run in circles. The maestro of your investigation is right under your nose. Dig a little deeper, and perhaps I'll be there.' Since Arthur was reading his own writing, the handwriting was altered of course so Alfred couldn't figure out the mystery quite yet, he had to feign shock to cover up his tracks after all. "Well, I'll be damned..." He muttered, neatly folding up the paper and placing it back into Alfred's hand.

"They know! They know what we're doing! Isn't this great, dude!"

"Uh, well, from your standpoint yes. From a logical standpoint no."

"What?" Alfred's expression dropped as he stared confused at Arthur.

"They're going to know everything you do, meaning they can erase any mistake they made and shroud themselves with the crowd." Arthur turned his back to Alfred, heading to the bathroom door and his only way out. "This is where I say farewell. If I stay out any longer my mother will become suspicious." Arthur said as he exited the bathroom.

Alfred blinked rapidly at Arthur's departure, holding the note inside the cage formed by his rough hands. Unbeknownst to Arthur, Alfred had formally ditched his weights class in order too make time for the investigation. No worries, he still had Arthur's list from earlier. Let us all pray that he doesn't embarrass himself while socializing.

As planned, Arthur returned to his mother's classroom. Since the hour was a giant study session for a grand test the coming day, the desks were formed into groups ranging from in person to a whopping six. Sighing to himself, Arthur returned to his desk-pressed up against the window and nearest to his mother's desk. He drummed his stub nails against the wooden desk as his eyes were glued to the front cover of The Great Gatsby, and Francis beside him was smirking from ear to ear.

"Bonjour, mon ami." Francis greeted, snaring Arthur's precious attention. "How was Monsieur Alfred?"

The Briton's eyes suddenly became wide while his mouth hung slightly agape. "How do y-" He mentally elbowed himself in the side before he cleared his throat. "I haven't a clue as to what you are talking about."

A laugh easily describable as pervy erupted from Francis before he excused himself from his study partner and leaned out towards Arthur's desk to whisper. "Sacre bleu, mon cheri, you know I know." He winked. "Those questions at lunch, your newfound friendship, the look of love and passion in your eyes! Oh trés magnifique! You're like Arsene Lupin swinging in to steal his love."

"Don't compare me to a thief." Arthur pouted, turning his attention to the window at his side as an attempt to ignore Francis.

"But you didn't deny your love for him!"

"I den-"

"Too late!" Once more, the laugh that sounded like 'Ohonhonhon!' ruptured through the air of the classroom-even catching the attention of Miss Morrígan. "I won't tell anyone, mon ami. But as the master of romance, I will help you."

"Excuse me gentleman." Miss Morrígan interrupted. "Is your discussion pertaining to your study material?" She asked, catching francis off-guard.

"Uh, why yes! Francis finds the party that Daisy attends at Gatsby's is extravagant and magnificence like the others featured before. However, I believe that's when the novel takes a nosedive heading towards its ending." Arthur stuttered out with an awkward smile in tow on his lips. Miss Morrígan shifted her gaze between her son and her son's ex-boyfriend before rubbing her temples and returning to her paperwork.

"Nice save."

"Yes, now why don't you bugger off and leave me be?" Arthur stated as he lowered his head and stared aggressively at his cell phone lying idly in his lap. Francis simply shrugged his shoulders and returned to his study partner, while Arthur's cell phone buzzed and lite up in order to display a recent text message from Alfred-which hurt Arthur's brain with all the abbreviations.

'Dude ur place after schoo!'

A pink tint was in bloom on Arthur's pale cheeks. He, Alfred, alone at his house; all of Alfred's fans could eat their hearts out.

'Why my place?' He texted back, being oh so stealthily to avoid his mother from confiscating his phone and avoid feeling the awful feeling of humiliation that would follow.

'My place's all messy' Alfred replied with. 'U OK with this?'

'Yes, I will need to tell my mother after school.'

'OK dude i'll be in the parking lot.'

Now the image of the two of them cruising through town in Alfred's sports car popped into Arthur's mind, and he was practically taking a vacation in his daydreams before the bell rang and ultimately butchered his fantasy. Miss Morrígan wished her students a grand rest of their day while Arthur lingered about with a question ready to spew out of his mouth.

"Mum, uh… Is it okay if I have a friend come over? He offered to give me a ride home."

Miss Morrígan cocked her head to the side before echoing. "A friend? Hm, who may that be?"

"You know Alfred, right? He played football in the fall, and he's currently on the baseball team."

"Wow, that is… that is quite the friend you've made there, love. I would never expect him."

"Thank you for the insult, Mum."

Miss Morrígan's eyes widened as she rose from her swivel chair. "No-no-no, poppet, I didn't mean that as an insult!" She said as she attempted to make amends for her word choice. "I think it's splendid you have a new friend!"

"Didn't sound like it…" Arthur muttered under his breath.

"You have my permission. Just don't cook anything and don't dirty the house up."

Arthur nodded and proceeded to retrieve his belongings. "You hold oh so much faith in me."

"I'm glad you took notice."

After saying his farewells. Arthur practically sprinted to the parking lot out by the front entrance. His backpack was a burden to his shoulders, and his textbooks made his arms feel weak, but that was no matter with the new found confidence surging through his veins. Once he found himself being gawked at by the gaudy cheerleaders and the baseball team's members, of course after finding Alfred's car, Arthur was beginning to realize his fantasies with Alfred were nothing more than fantasies-they all thought Arthur's appearance in Alfred's life was the start of an elaborate prank to shame poor Arthur.

"Yo, dude! I narrowed down the list, and I think we found our perp!"


	5. Chapter 5

Riding around in a near-shiny new sports car with his crush had absolutely nothing alike from Arthur's fantasy in English class. The windows were rolled down and the wind outside was mucking up both their hairs and adding a few wrinkles in their deep purple school uniforms. Alfred's music choices were worlds apart from being anything that Arthur would purchase and pop into his shabby CD player, edited rap music on the radio with the cuss words being censored out with the instrumental playing over it-leaving only forty seconds of actual singing in the entire four minute rap. Alfred was humming along with a somewhat scratchy hum, as he zipped through the streets going a little over the speed limit-not going super over for Arthur's sake. "So." Alfred started as a conversation piece as they were momentarily halted at a red light. "Did ya' read through the list?" The American turned the volume of the booming car stereo as he gestured to the list resting in Arthur's lap.

"I'd rather not vomit all over my...er-and your-hard work. I can't read in moving vehicles." Arthur replied, glancing to the rolled down mirror beside him only to meet the gaze of one of Alfred's disapproving teammate. "Ugh… I just want to go hom-"

"If you can't read it, I'll just tell ya!" Alfred exclaimed as the light turned green and he slammed on the gas-causing a green tint to become one with Arthur's complexion-but Alfred ended up slowing down before his passenger could vomit up his stomach acid. "But, I have a question."

Arthur was all la against the plush passenger seat as he was thankful for the rush of fresh air flowing into the car via the windows. "Go on…" He grumbled.

"Your name was on the list. Yo, you remember I told ya' that it couldn't be you."

Ah, the moment of truth.

Arthur watched a bustling gas station fly by as the car trudged forward, while he began to gather up the broken fragments of his answer. "You said to place down any senior in our grade who wasn't dating, or absolutely-" The car came to a sudden halt, causing Arthur to place a hand over his mouth and swallow the contents in his mouth back to where it belonged. "...ugh, hated your guts… I was just following orders."

Alfred groaned at the red light they came across. "Aren't ya datin' someone? That blonde dude with the stubble?"

"Wow! You are so behind on our schools gossip! Francis and I… haven't been dating since this summer."

"Oh, sorry dude." Alfred uttered as he the awkwardness began to set into the car.

"It's fine, it was for the best anyway." A bright green light flashed in Arthur's eyes as they beham moving forward. He began taking in deep breath after deep breath to calm his nausea. Alfred turned into Arthur's neighborhood shortly after, prompting Arthur to ask. "Since we have become the best of friends and are sharing our life secrets, have you any lover in your past?"

"Well-"

"Dates lasting a few days to a month don't count.'

"Ah-"

"Neither do the girls you gave Valentine's cards to back in elementary school."

"Then really no one, I guess."

As they rolled up into Arthur's driveway, Arthur turned and stared at Alfred with a confused expression. "You? Of all people? Huh… I would've never guessed." The rumbling of the car stop shaking Arthur when Alfred killed the ignition. "The excuse you gave me in the library didn't make that clear."

"Excuse?"

"Yes, you know… uh nevermind…"

Arthur unbuckled himself from the car seat and weakly pushed open the door and was immediately smacked with a gust of cool wind that nearly sent his scrawny form flying back. Nonetheless, Arthur held the notepad close to his chest as he stepped out of the car and slung his backpack over his shoulders. Alfred followed his lead, yet left his backpack inside his miniscule trunk. Arthur inputted the garage code and watched the garage door rise before heading inside his lovely abode. Arthur instructed Alfred to hang his coat up on the coat rack and slip his shoes off by the front door. The Brit placed his backpack down on the couch before walking into the kitchen, and being greeted by his cat sitting on the counter. "Do you want anything to drink. Water, tea, pop?"

"A soda-pop sounds good, thanks dude." Aldred answered as he plopped down on the couch.

Arthur grabbed ahold of the glass bottle filled with a brown fizzy liquid that he grimaced at the sight of-and it was only present because his mother had a coupon for it-but still handed it off to Alfred with a neutral face. Now that he had the stomach to read the notepad that Alfred edited, Arthur read aloud the names not crossed out. "Antonio, Lovino, Kiku, Natalia, Laura, and me. You've narrowed the list quite a bit."

"No use keepin' in the people who hate my guts or are my twin brother!" Alfred popped off the cap and downed the carbonated drink in one giant gulp. "So I edited!"

"Into a list this small, we could hunt down everyone separately."

"That's why we're goin' to a party this weekend!"

The car sickness nausea from earlier came flooding back in when thoughts of tequila shots and downing straight vodka at a party flashed before Arthur's eyes. "How about I provide some assistance from the outside while you party hard inside."

"Nu-uh, dude, we're gonna go party! We'll split up in the house to cover more ground." Alfred enthusiastically explained, trying to pass along his excitement onto a recovering Arthur. "You'll be fine! Just blend into the crowd!"

"But I don't want to awake the next day with a bloody hangover! Unlike you, I'm trying to please my mother!"

"Just don't drink then!"

"Have you listened in to any of the lectures in health class? Peer pressure is going to make me drink, you git!"

Alfred glanced down at his lap while in deep thought, frankly however Alfred was only pretending to think to soothe Arthur's growing distaste towards the plan. "Eh, we'll just think of somethin' later."

"I know I have a feminine body, but I am NOT seducing the target."

"Hm… you know, that doesn't sound like a terrible plan though!"

"Alfred…"

"Geez, you're ruining my fun."


	6. Chapter 6

Since Arthur's life is practically a comedy of errors, Saturday arrived and Arthur was on his merry way to a party in which most of the senior class was attending. Even though Alfred's attire was his normal, laid-back, style, Arthur donned a dorky nerd-esque clothing, with a bowtie his mother tied after being told an obvious lie that her son was meeting Alfred's parents. And as per the plan, Alfred ventured off to the second floor of Antonio's lovely abide to survey who enters and exits any and all the bedrooms. While poor-poor Arthur was stationed on the first floor where all the drinking and dancing was occurring. However, Mr. Arthur sat, with a red solo cup in the cup of his hands, in the corner awkwardly observing those partaking in the dancing and the drinking.

The stench of alcohol was present in every spec of the base floor, and was even wafting up from the cup held firmly in his hand. All of the partygoers seemed to ignore Arthur's existence but Alfred was garnering attention left and right by every single person who traveled up the steps for a blissful night. Despite his best wishes to stay sober, Arthur stole sips of the pure vodka he poured into his cups, sips he grimaced at when the liquid touched his tongue turned into full on chugs resulting in his cup going dry. His head seemed to throb yet it seemed as if his perspective on the party was an out-of-body experience. The music turned from annoying to absolutely epic, every single word that was ever spoken turned into comedy gold, everyone appeared so incredibly sexy to his eyes that Alfred couldn't compare anymore, and Arthur Kirkland realized he was completely drunk from a single cup of vodka.

Arthur slowly, and with a slight stagger to his walk, ventured out and away from his corner. He refilled his cup, this time with bourbon that burned the back of his throat, and began to make friends with all the wrong people. The other equally as drunk patrons took a real shine to drunk Arthur's boisterous and obnoxious voice, and quickly allowed the blonde Brit to join in the rave of drug use and excessive dancing. Arthur didn't know the first thing about contemporary dance when he was sober, he didn't unlock the secrets of the universe when he became drunk either. His scrawny chicken limbs awkwardly moved to the beat of the music, his chit-chatter amongst the others simply sprayed the stench of vodka inhabiting his tongue.

"Do ya' know why I'm here!" Arthur said to some black haired boy with brown eyes, who was clearly sober and uncomfortable.

"Huh?" The boy, whose name was Kiku Honda, uttered whilst attempting to uncover an emergency exit out of the party. "Why, Arthur-San?" He continued in order to please Arthur.

"Cause, I fell in love wit' a boy n' I put some stupid letter in his locker! He don't know I put the note in his locker, n' now I'm helpin' him find out I'm the culprit!" Arthur began laughing as Kiku stared wide-eyed at the drunk boy in front of him.

"Who?" Kiku pried further, clasping his hands together by his knees-since he was sat in the corner that Arthur called home once before.

"Y'know Alfred? Mh-hm, that's him."

"Alfred-san?"

"Yeah, isn't he hot?"

Kiku lowered his gaze down into his lap, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation occurring without his full-on consent. He didn't utter a single answer in return, since he knee fully well that Arthur wad going to yell at him regardless if he answered yes or no. Kiku was simply thankful that Francis came pushing out of the crowd to relieve Kiku of the drunken Arthur.

"Eh, sorry Kiku... Did Arthur bother you?" Francis inquired as he forced himself into the conversation.

"No-"

"We were havin' a pleasant conversation until you showed up, ya bloody frog!" Arthur's blushing complexion, due to the alcohol swirling around in his blood, immediately became a bright beet red because of his rising levels of anger.

"Oui-oui, I know mon ami. But let's get you back to Alfred." Francis cooed as an attempt to soothe Arthur's exaggerated anger.

"Alfred? But I have ta' watch this floor!" Arthur hollered over the pounding music, as Francis tried to forcefully tug Arthur away from the recluse that is Kiku. "Lemme go, ya cheeky snob!" The Brit protested, even though Francis' hold on him was very minimal.

But midway up the steps to the second floor, a wide-eyed frightened Alfred came rushing down the steps. His steps were a bit wobbly and it seemed as if he was in a rush to leave, though he hadn't guzzled down a single drop of alcohol-unlike his plus one.

"Bonjour, mon ami." Francis greeted as he handed custody of Arthur over to Alfred. "I think Arthur needs to go home... He's drunk." Arthur latched onto Alfred's arm and began to giggle like a school girl in close proximity with her crush-which is exactly what Arthur was.

"'Kay... I was plannin' on goin' home anyway..." Alfred replied with a tone weaker than his normal one, and it was drowned out by the electronic music radiating through and rumbling the house.

"Huh, is everything all right?"

"Uh yeah..." Alfred replied rather hastily as he began to descend the stairs with Arthur staggering along with him.

Before anymore questions could be thrown at his way, Alfred would've bolted free of that house and sprinted down the street to the comfort of his own home. However, with the addition of Arthur hanging onto him like a leech, Alfred was forced to speed walk out of the house-like a mother Black Friday shopping-with Arthur attempting to match his pace.

"Ngh, where are we goin', Alfred?" Arthur asked as a puff of cool air smacked him across the face and flushed out the scent of mixed alcohols from his nostrils.

"My place."

"Ooh~ isn't that a bit risqué!"

"Shut up, dude, you're drunk."

The reason why they were traveling to Alfred's house was because it laid smack-dab at the end if the street where Antonio's house lied. Oh, and also because Alfred was petrified for Arthur's sake if he delivered the poor Brit home while he was still intoxicated.

Once they reached Alfred's home, Alfred momentarily abandoned Arthur at the front door to flip on some light switches-since his parents were absent due to business. However when Alfred returned, Arthur's bowtie was undone and the poor sod was dry heaving and nearing a full on projectile vomit.

"Yo! Are you okay!?" Alfred cried as he rushed over to Arthur's side.

Arthur clutched at his chest, his chest feeling as if it were about to collapse and suffocate him. "Mhm... No..."

So into the nearest bathroom they went!

Alfred watched, from inside the door frame, in disgust as Arthur was leaning over the toilet and vomiting practically everything he ate for the entirety of the week.

"Dude, what did you drink?"

After Arthur concluded with a wave of vomiting, he spoke into the toilet thus giving his voice an echo tone. "A cup of vodka an' a shot of bourbon..."

"Straight vodka?"

"Yep."

"Ew, you're so gross."

"So are you."

The American disembarked from the bathroom to retrieve a water bottle az Arthur spit up the residue of vomit lounging about in his mouth. But upon arrival, Arthur was sprawled out in the floor, mumbling to himself before he laid eyes on Alfred.

"How was the investigation...?" Arthur weakly said, his senses slowly returning to him as his head throbbed with waves of pain.

Alfred nervously laughed as he set the water he set out for down beside Arthur's head. "I'm gonna wait and tell ya' when you're sober."

"I'm kinda sober!"

"No you're not." Alfred shot back, as Arthur unhappily snatched the water bottle into his arms.

"I'm gonna go to sleep!" Arthur proclaimed, sealing off his eyes and craning an arm and placing his arm on top of that.

"On the bathroom floor?"

"Wot? Tryin' ta' stop me!" Arthur argued as he began to tune any reasoning out, and was knocked out cold seconds after his proclamation.

Sighing, Alfred placed one arm underneath Arthur's knees and one underneath Arthur's waist, being able to lift the lightweight male up without much of an effort on his end. While carrying the passed out Arthur, Alfred ventured off to his room and set the Brit down on his messy bed, shedding off his bomber jacket and placing that over Arthur rather than the comforter that was shoved to the floor. Alfred grabbed a random pair of pajamas before he returned to the bathroom from earlier. He changed clothing, leaving his party clothes in the corner for later attendance, and flushed the vomit down the drain. He sighed once more before heading on down to the couch in the living room.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur awoke from his dreamless slumber with a headache that felt as if his head were to split in two at any given moment, hand-in-hand with the taste of old vomit dancing on his taste buds. Arthur groaned and shivered before turning over over on his side and inhaling a scent, radiating from the pillow his head was resting on, that was foreign to his normal bedspread. Everything smelt like it was coated in greasy, manufactured, foods before being laid out for Arthur to rest his head upon. Filled to the brim with confusion, Arthur peeled open his eyes in order yo fully grasp surroundings.

And for him to realize that he had slept in the bedroom belonging to his crush.

The Brit hastily sat up in the bed, Alfred's beloved bomber jacket rolling off his body. Those emerald eyes scanned the walls crammed with sports posters, and the American flag draped above the oak headboard, as well as the American flag comforter lying on the floor, add on the clothes spilling forth out of both the closet and the dresser, lastly the grease stains-hopefully from Alfred's fine dining-staining the grey sheets in some areas.

Arthur's head was still pounding as he came to the realization of his predicament, and he rubbed his temples in order to combat the pain. His ears began to pick up the sounds of gunshots jumping out from a television's speakers on the lower floor. With shaking legs and aching pains, Arthur completely pushed the ratty old bomber jacket off his form before haphazardly venturing down the stairs-having to use the wall as support. As the blonde-headed Brit headed closer and closer to the house, he began to pick up on sounds of vigorous button mashing and both defeated and victorious grunts courtesy of Alfred.

"Oi..." Alfred called out once he reached the bottom step, causing Alfred to jump slightly-since he was startled and all-and pause his trigger-happy shooter game. "Would you mind telling me what in the bloody hell happened last night." He asked, venturing further into the living room and plopping down on the opposite side of Alfred's couch bed. "My head is killing me..."

"That's cause ya' got drunk." Alfred replied rather nonchalantly as he set his gaming controller down on the coffee table.

"Drunk... I don't recall being drunk."

"Prolly cause you were drunk, dude..."

"Huh..." Arthur pouted as he glanced down at his knees. "Did I make a fool of myself?"

"Dunno, I was too busy completing the mission." Alfred proclaimed in a 'Matter of fact' type of voice as he pushed out his chest and crossed his arms over it. "And now we can officially cross Antonio and Lovino off the list!"

"Hm, how come?"

Alfred's previously boastful aura shriveled and turned into a rather shy persona. "...i saw them sleeping together..." He muttered.

"Hm, speak up. My ears are ringing, I couldn't hear you."

"...they were sleeping together..."

"One more time?"

"Ugh, I SAW THEM SLEEPING TOGETHER!"

"Oh..." Arthur stared wide eyed down at his lap, a blush returning to his cheeks at the sudden revelation. "Uh.. That's certainly some scandalous news... Did you walk in on them?"

Following an awkward chuckle, Alfred explained "I needed to use the can and all, and I went searching but I forgot which room held each person... Antonio was on top of Lovino and-and..." Alfred's voice disappeared as he cleared his throat to divulge from the current conversation piece. "Anyway, Francis' texted me, after you passed out, and said that you yelled at Kiku."

"I don't remember... Wait, how do you have Francis' number?"

"Details-details. He didn't say what you said, dude, but you might wanna ask him." Alfred picked up his controller off the coffee table and resumed his incredibly loud game of shooting zombies in their brains, and having the matter splatter all over the screen.

After patting down his pockets and uncovering his cellphone, Arthur pardoned himself from his and Alfred's conversation in order to hide out in the bathroom to call Francis. Scrolling through his miniscule contacts list for a hot second, the Brit pressed Francis' name and held the square object to his ear.

A few tings later, Francis groaned into the phone before saying. "What is it, Arthur. You're disrupting my beauty sleep."

"What did I say to Kiku last night?"

"Ohonhonhon, you really want to know, mon ami?"

"Just shoot."

"Do you really?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Francis..." Arthur sighed as he sat down on the closed toilet seat.

"Oui, I'll tell you... You told Kiku how much you loved Alfred, and then told him your mission."

Arthur's phone nearly slid out of his hand as the Brit's mouth hung open from both shock and a teaspoon of fear. "He won't tell Alfred, will he?" His tone from earlier became much more hushed. "I hope he won't..."

"Kiku? Non-non, he said he wouldn't tell. He's on that list, oui?"

"How do you know about the list? Nevermind... Yes, he's on the list."

"Come up with something to tell Alfred so you can cross him off the list."

"How come?" Arthur cocked his head to the side, even though Francis couldn't visually see it.

"Kiku isn't interested, mon ami, you're one step closer!"

Arthur felt a huge weight being lifted from his shoulders at the news, he also felt a smile beginning to form on his lips as he said. "I all ready know what I'm going to tell him."

"Quelle? That you're in love with him?"

"No, are you daft? About Kiku, of course."

Francis sighed on the other line, Arthur envisioning the Frenchman running a hand through his bangs due to his rising levels of irritation. "Prom is in... A month and four weeks. You have until then to confess your love for Alfred."

"I know, ugh, I'm just not ready for that at the current moment."

"Then it's your loss, mon ami."

"Mh-hm, I'll see you at school Francis."

"Au revoir, and tell Alfred I said bonjour."

Arthur hung up without thinking too incredibly hard about those final words said by Francis. He slid his phone back into his pocket before returning to the living room. "Pause your bloody game!" Arthur hollered as he hustled, with wobbling weak legs, back to Alfred on the couch. "Kiku can be crossed off too! Apparently I got him to say that he didn't love you! Nor did he write the letters."

"Then the mission was a success. No. More than a success! Go grab the notepad, dude, it's in my room!"

Nodding, Arthur returned to a pigsty of a bedroom and found the notepad on top of the dresser.

'All that's left are two girls and I... Don't worry to much Francis, I have this in the bag.'


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur returned home with a hangover still banging about in his head. Luckily, Miss Morrígan was out grocery shopping when her angelic son returned, thus giving Arthur ample time to wash the retching stench of alcohol and vomit off his skin, oh and started a load of laundry so his mother would never discover the mix of vodka and bourbon staining his cuffs.

When Miss Morrígan returned home, two brown grocery sacks cradled in her arms, she found her son in his room feigning food poisoning he supposedly contracted from consuming burgers the night before. Her overactive maternal instincts kept her from seeing through the little ruse since she immediately went into the kitchen to brew tea, and her questions about Arthur's whereabouts during the night had flew out the window.

"Get some rest, love. I'll call the library and tell then that you aren't feeling well." Miss Morrígan sat in piping hot cup of tea down on the nightstand before brushing her sons bangs back and away from his forehead. "I'll be at the dining table grading papers, if you need anything. Okay, love?"

Being as miserable as ever, Arthur nodded his head into his pillow before pushing his pet Scottish Fold off his chest and into his lap, in order to sit himself up. "Mh-hm... Thanks..." He grabbed ahold of the porcelain tea cup, as well as the saucer, and indulged in a good long sip of Earl Grey.

Miss Morrígan softly smiled, a smile most often seen on mothers, as she placed a loving kiss to Arthur's partially sweaty temple. "No problem, Poppet." She lingered about for her 'sick' son to finish his sip, so she could set it back on the nightstand so Arthur didn't have to exert his muscles. "I'll make a broth for you whenever you want it." She said just as she reached the door leading out of the bedroom, and left only when Arthur mumbled something incoherent in response.

She descended down the steps while humming some tune she came up with on the spot. Her original intent was to set up shop at the dining table and await to make the broth at Arthur's signal. However, the doorbell rang and Miss Morrígan came face-to-face with two of her students, one being her son's ex-boyfriend. "Francis, Kiku, may I ask why you are here?"

Francis held up a thing of Tupperware. "We heard Arthur felt sick, et we made him some stew."

"Huh... I thought you and Arthur stopped talking after your breakup."

"Non-non, we still talk." Francis hastily said in his defense. "May we see him?"

Miss Morrígan furrowed her trademark bushy eyebrows. "I suppose you may." She stepped aside and cracked the door opened further, allowing the two boys to step in and remove their shoes by the coat rack. "He's upstairs in his room. I trust you can find it, Francis."

Francis smiled while Kiku bowed before they traveled up the stairs, and went straight to the Brit's bedroom. Before entering, Francis tapped his knuckle against the door, hearing Arthur respond with. "Mum? Just bugger off and let me die..."

With that being said, Francis opened the door and both he and Kiku poked their heads in before fully entering. "You look très beau, Arthur." Francis sarcastically said as he laid eyes on a partially sweaty Arthur all wrapped up in his sheets.

Arthur groaned when he heard the Frenchman's voice, and groaned louder and more irritated when he saw the Frenchman. "Why are you here you bloody frog... Not you Kiku, I don't hate you." The Brit stated, trying his all to ensure he didn't insult Kiku accidentally.

"We're just here to talk, mon ami!" Francis and Kiku stepped into the unwelcoming atmosphere of the bedroom, with Francis closing the door behind him with his free hand. "And~ Kiku et moi made you some beef stew."

"...really..."

"Yes, Arthur-San."

"...Then you can stay..."

Huffing in victory, Francis set the Tupperware of stew down at the writing desk and carefully removed the lid, then handed it off to Arthur, albeit with a plastic spoon. Arthur oddly thanked the two gentleman in his room as he chowed down on the lukewarm stew resting in his lap, however he held zero complaints as the food stuff was bursting with flavor when it landed on his tongue. Without anyone telling them not to, Francis and Kiku sat at the end of the bed-Francis being the one closer to Arthur's sheathed feet-and they forcibly pushed the Scottish Fold off the bed. The cat, nicknamed Iggy-Cat for reasons unknown, hissed in protest but didn't claw at either individuals.

"How many people are left on the list?" Francis asked as he killed the silence surrounding them; excluding the slurping and chewing noises Arthur was producing due to his comfort food.

"Huh?" Arthur swallowed the contents in his mouth while his two visitors looked at him expectedly. "Three, including me."

"Is Arfred suspicious of you?" Kiku asked, clasping his hands together in his lap as he gaze was occupied by the pissy cat striding about the room.

"No... At least not yet, I hope..."

Francis pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed in irritation. "You're helpless... Someone's going to swoop in and steal Alfred before you can say 'Je t'aime!' You're luck is horrible, it's going to happen."

"Uh... I agree with Francis-San."

"Ugh!" Arthur uttered as he angrily slammed the now empty hard plastic bowl down on his nightstand. "You all are giving me a headache!"

"Non... You're just hungover."

"I get that, can we just drop it!"

As Kiku was handed the plastic lid before he began to secure it onto the bowl, Francis spotted the little yellow paged notepad sticking out of the bag Arthur had with hun during the party the night prior. So, lifting himself off the bed, Francis found himself in front of the writing desk-that was stationed in front of the large window showcasing a blossoming rose garden in the backyard. He held the yellow notepad in his hands as he scanned over the remaining three names. Which were highlighted, underlined, and bolded into oblivion.

"Natalia..." Francis muttered to himself as his blue eyes read the premier name. "Isn't she in love with-"

Before Francis could conclude with his piece, Miss Morrígan knocked before allowing herself in. "Sorry, gentleman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." All eyes automatically hit her before she could explain. "Not because of anything bad, no! It's just that Arthur's brother, Allistor, called and he's staying here for a week, and I'm in a desperate need to clean."

The blonde Frenchman set down the notepad inside Arthur's bag before holding a hand up to say." Say no more! Merci beaucoup for allowing us in, Miss Kirkland." He tapped Kiku on his shoulder, causing the raven haired male to rise up, with the hard plastic bowl clutched to his chest. "Au revoir, Arthur, and to you too, Miss Kirkland." He announced before officially exiting the room, having his arm slung over a tense Kiku's shoulders.

Mother and son sat in silence as they listened to the two guest slip their shows and make their leave via the front door. However, after she heard the front door officially close behind the guest, Miss Morrígan stared at her son directly in those emerald eyes that mirrored her own. "I don't mean to sound snobby or anything, but, you've changed lately. You're more like an introvert, yet, you've made more friends in about two weeks than you've done in years... You never stay with me after school anymore, you've been missing dinner quite often, and you've been out a lot more frequently lately. Is everything all right, poppet?"

Arthur's eyes widened before he broke eye contact with his mother to glance at his writing desk, a wave a relief washing over him when he saw that Francis hid the notebook. "Never better, Mum... Don't fret about something like this. It will help me more than hurt me, right?"

"I suppose... But if something were to happen, wouldn't you tell me?"

"Of course, though, nothing is happening."


	9. Chapter 9

The infamous hangover had melter away, without much of a fuss, by Monday morning. Arthur was treated to a 'Good mornin', Artie.' by his visiting elder brother, and he traveled to school with his mother dearest-nearly spilling his Earl Grey in his lap-to end up where he is now. Sitting in his first hour Calculus course with a sheet of paper, lying on top on his worksheet, on his smooth desktop. The chit-chatter swarming around him was virtually non-existent since his mind was so deep in thought with that he should scribble down for Alfred to fawn over next.

Francis sat behind him, in the row of desks they were all assigned to, and Kiku was actually completing all the assigned worksheets that, were due the following day, sitting beside Francis. With his excellent perception skills, Francis was able to uncover that Arthur wasn't completing the assigned work for the day, and has sat entirely still for the past few moments.

So, Francis tapped the dull pink eraser bud on Arthur's back, and flashed a charming smile when the Brit turned around in his seat to investigate the interruption. "Bonjour! Are you writing for Alfred?" He asked, keeping his voice quiet yet keeping it loud enough so that it would filter into Kiku's eardrums.

"I'm trying to, if you hadn't interrupted me I would've been closer to the finished product... But, I just don't know what to write..." Arthur admitted, crossing his legs at the ankles in order to become more comfortable in the new position. "Perhaps I could say we met at the party, officially."

"Oui, maybe... What do you think, Kiku?"

"Huh!?" Kiku raised his head up from the worksheet as he was rudely ripped out from the world of calculus. He was greeted to Francis and Arthur glancing at him, awaiting his valued opinion. "Sure...?" He replied, not quite knowing what the topic of the conversation happened to be, because frankly he was trying to be a fantastic student.

"All right, now get to writing, mon ami!"

With a faint nod to his head, Arthur turned back around in his desk. The chatter flooded back into his ears, along with a conversation Francis initiated with Kiku, causing his brain to ponder about trivial things rather than the objective on hand. However, as if it were the work of a miracle, Arthur wrote a note worthy of being shoved into Alfred's locker.

'I saw you, and you saw me. Amongst the booming music and the nauseating light show. We spoke, and it tore my heart to pieces. I wanted to say how much I loved you but, for my ways than one, I couldn't. I'm right under your nose; yet you don't seem to notice me.'

Arthur huffed in triumph at his accomplishment, right as Francis tapped his back with his eraser again and asked politely for the completed note.

"Ohonhonhon~ How dramatic." Francis stated as he concluded with his reading of the note.

"Thanks...?"

"Go to your locker and slip the note in real quick!" Francis said as he forcibly shoved the note back into Arthur's hands. "Say you're getting your textbook!"

"I can just with for lunch or-"

"Ha! Non, do it now!"

Squinting one eye in a confused fashion due to Francis' excitement, Arthur rose up from his seat and walked on down to the teacher's desk-some wandering eyes landing on him. Once receiving permission to depart, Arthur was flashed a thumbs up from his French supporter as he exited through the door. The Brit didn't have to travel very far to reach Alfred's locker, since the calculus room was on the same floor as the senior lockers. Before he knew it, Arthur was standing before Alfred's locker-which was still overly decorated with pictures from the football season and perfume-scented cards from the cheerleaders, that still reeked as if the entire bottle was poured on it. As if he were in some cheesy romantic teen drama, Arthur pressed his note to his lips as he thought 'Let's pray for the best..' before he slipped the note through the gills of the locker. 'Maybe this time...'

Before returning to the class, Arthur retrieved a random textbook from his locker so it would seem that he actually did what he told the teacher he was going to do. However, upon arrival, when Arthur placed his hand on the shiny doorknob of the room, the door was slammed open by someone from the other side-nearly attacking the Brit in his face. The Brit let out a startled squeak as he staggered to the side, just as a platinum blonde girl exited the room. Her hands rose up to fix the black bow in her hair as she breezed past a startled Arthur, her eyes burning into his very soul before her attention was captivated by the more intriguing hallway.

"How rude..." Arthur muttered under his breath before he walked back into the room, a random textbook clutched tightly to his chest.

There wasn't much of a fuss after that rather odd encounter, so Arthur returned to his assigned seat without much discord erupting around him. All that occurred, when Arthur sat his behind down, was Francis fawning over how suspenseful those notes are, and Kiku copying everything the Frenchman had stated. Even if it was for a few moments, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

But then, Arthur's phone buzzed in his pant pocket, causing his curiosity to be peaked as he fished out the phone from his pant pocket. After tapping his index finger on the glass a few times, accidentally opening applications that weren't his text messages, the Brit glanced over the text Alfred had sent him.

'DUUUUDDDEE! I WENT TO MY LOCKER N ALL AND I SAW A GIRL BY MY LOCKER! GUESS WHAT! :D THERE'S A NOTE TOO!' Alongside the text message was a picture of an unfolded note in Alfred's hand. 'I think we found em!'

'Who is out culprit?' Arthur texted back as he furrowed his brows in confusion. Francis was leaning a long distance over his desktop in order to eavesdrop on the messages, and he gasped from the drama that was enfolding.

"Quelle!? Qui!?"

"If you would just wait, then we'll find out!"

'Y'know Ivan's lil sis? Not the one with those big knockers, but the real creepy one that's cute?'

'Yes, she attacked me with a door a few minutes ago.'

'Well... That's her 3 we spoke at the party n everything!'

The color in Francis' face dropped as Arthur was left speechless by what Alfred had saw.

'Dude, isn't this cool!?'

'I suppose... We'll talk more later.'

'K, bye'

Arthur shut off his phone and slid the electronic device into his pocket, right as Natalia returned to class. Arthur hadn't known whether it was his emotions running rampant, or was it painfully reality, but to him Natalia now had a regal air about her. Looking all smug despite the void of emotions clouding her facial features, and walking with a swish to her hips even though she was walking how she normally does.

Yes, Arthur was just a little heartbroken right then.

"N-n-Natalia..." Francis uttered, his face pale and his jaw hanging low in shock. "Sacré bleu..."

Arthur momentarily broke his hateful gaze towards Natalia to indulge in Francis' complete shock. "What's the matter, old chap? Are you heartbroken too?"

"No-no, it's just that..."

"Just what now?"

"That..."

"Spit it out you bloody frog."

"Natalia is in love with her brother..."


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur's jaw hung loose as he processed everything Francis had just said to him. He felt the urge to screech out due to exasperation from the accusation. However, being the gentleman he strives to be, he kept his tone down and whispered to Francis. "How do you know this? Either you are a god of love or your perception is excellent..."

"I won't deny that I'm a god, mon ami. Mais, Natalia dropped her papers by her locker, un jour. My locker is next to hers and I was there when she dropped it. I went to help la fille, but then I saw a heart with her name and Ivan's inside it... And more hearts... Then more hearts... Did I mention more hearts? And m-"

"I get your point." Arthur rose his hand up to silence the Frenchman. "I think we should tell Ivan, though..."

"I'm sure he all ready kno-"

"I'll tell him after school. I'll slip the poor sod a note during lu-"

"Slow down Arthur." Francis interrupted, finally gaining control of the conversation. "Why do we need to tell him?"

"To warn him. Bloody hell Francis, have you been following along?"

"We should warn Alfred, stupide. Not Monsieur Ivan." Francis explained, trying to dissuade Arthur from spreading the dirty little secret to the poor victim. Francis shifted in his seat, a tad bit uncomfortable, as he glanced around to see if there were any prying eyes. "Eat lunch with Alfred and tell him. So then he won't be stupid and flirt with Natalia. It'd be a shame if you confess to him while he has bruises on his face!"

"I don't think those people at Alfred's lunch table will accept my existence near then..." Now it was Arthur's turn to shift uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, granted, you're there. But everyone will probably think of me as your ex."

"Then go eat in the gym. You have to tell him."

The bell shrieked, causing the students to gather up their papers and make a dash to their next class or to visit with their group of friends. Francis and Kiku slipped on their backpacks and bid adieu. Arthur stood from his desk, after retrieving his red homework folder from within the endless void of his bag, he placed the folder-now carrying his calculus worksheets-on top his textbook and cradled it in his arms. With his messenger bag styled backpack slung over his shoulder, Arthur disembarked from the classroom as he was texting Alfred.

'Go to the gym for lunch. We need to talk ASAP.' Arthur typed out with his thumb as he maneuvered through the crowded hallways while staring down at his phone. However, not even a minute had slipped on by before Arthur glanced back down and added. 'No talking to Natalia either.'

The cell phone buzzed in his hand as Arthur walked into the journalism room-being greeted by Feliciano saying his signature "Ve~" to his boyfriend Ludwig. Arthur set his stuff down in front of his assigned computer before his eyes glanced over the text messages.

':'('

'Sure dude... I'll see ya there'

Arthur patiently sat on the dull red colored bleachers inside the school's gym. He tapped his foot as he waited and he munched on one of the scones his mother made the night before. It had been ten minutes since lunch began, and Arthur was seriously considering the possibility that Alfred ditched him and ventured off to go flirt with Natalia. The Brit was about ready to pull out his cell phone and assault Alfred with loads of texts demanding where he was then and there, but the doors leading in busted open and in came the American... With a greasy bag of McDonald's in his hands.

"Yo! Sorry dude!" He proclaimed right as he stepped onto the glossy wooden floors of the gym. "I left to go get lunch."

The Brit watched as Alfred climbed up the steps to reach where his friend was situated at top. "At least you're here..." Arthur sighed as Alfred took a seat beside him. He waited for Alfred to finish opening the brown bag, along with one of his burger wrappers, before he spoke again. "Natalia is not the girl leaving the notes. Sorry to burst your bubble..."

Alfred prematurely swallowed a chunk of hamburger he bit out of his cheeseburger. "Huh!" He indulged in a second to ensure the chunk traveled safely down his throat. "But, I saw her leave my locker! She had to have left the newest note."

"Listen to me, you bloody idiot, I know who it is. Remember? That's why you asked me to help you." Arthur scolded as he solemnly shook his head. "Besides... Natalia is in love with..." His voice turned quiet as he reached the end of his sentence.

"Dude, what was that?"

"I said, Natalia is in love with..."

"With who?"

"Her..."

"Speak up, bro."

"Ugh, her own brother for God's sake!"

Arthur was thankful that Alfred finished his burger, otherwise it would have slid right out of his hands due to the shocked state he was in. "WHAT THE HELL? HER OWN B-"

Before Alfred could finish screaming his sentence to the heavens, Arthur clasped his hand over Alfred's mouth to ensure anyone walking on by wouldn't hear. "You don't have to yell!" He stated after Alfred was done muffling his sentence into his hand. "It's the truth."

Once Arthur redrew his hand, Alfred said. "How the hell do you know this?"

"Well, Francis told me after he peeked at your text. I don't trust the wanker with most things. However, when it comes to knowing other peoples personal business? I believe him."

"Ew... She's in love with Ivan... Of all people..."

"Yes, I believe I all ready stated th-"

"Then, who's left?" Alfred interrupted, trying to erase the mental image of Natalia and Ivan as a lovey-dovey couple.

Arthur immediately began to dig through his backpack, in order to retrieve the holy notepad. He took the liberty of crossing out Natalia's name as Alfred began to munch on his large order of fries-munching at a hastened pace that his large order of fries was nearly gone. "Laura and me."

"Who's Laura again?"

"The Belgian girl who likes cats."

Alfred's mouth formed an 'O' shape as he remembered this fabled Emma. "Is that all for today?"

"Yes, unless you want to investigate after school."

"Nah dude." Alfred stood up and slid on his backpack. "I got plans after school. Maybe tomorrow." He grabbed ahold of his greasy lunch bag-which now only contained another order of large fries-before he began to descend down the stairs. Arthur appeared defeated and crushed by the rejection Alfred nonchalantly presented him, and it made it even worse when Alfred shared, "I'm gonna go sit with my friends 'till lunch's over. See ya dude!"

"Goodbye..." Arthur muttered as he watched Alfred exit the gym.

Alfred slumped back in his seat, his back hitting the painted white brick wall behind him, as he sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose before returning to the scone he was taking nibbles out of earlier. All the while, he couldn't shake some odd, foreign, feeling off. It honestly felt as if he was being watched. However, since Arthur had taken note that the gym was empty when he walked in, he tried his best to ignore the nagging feeling.

Unbeknownst to him, someone was indeed eavesdropping on him.


	11. Chapter 11

The feeling of being watched plagued Arthur for the remaining of that day. At first, he deduced it was Francis spying on him and Alfred. But after further investigation he came to realize that, at that time, Francis was far too busy in the bathroom with his special partner. The next suspect was Kiku, however it was obvious that the poor sod would never spy on anyone due to his antisocial nature. And it was obvious that Alfred couldn't have done the eavesdropping, so Arthur tried to forget all about it.

But it was rather hard since his brain played tricks on him and caused him to feel someone breathing down his neck.

Nonetheless, school came to a close and Arthur stayed behind with his mother-since Alfred was busy and couldn't offer up a ride home. As the last of the students funneled out of the treacherous building, Arthur disembarked from his mother's classroom in order to return textbooks to his locker. He went down one floor, the noise his shoes made as the clicked against the floor echoing off the walls, and reached his locker as he glanced about -all the while the feeling from earlier growing stronger and stronger. He entered his locker code in record time and hurriedly shoved the thick books inside, before slamming it shut and turning around.

Only to come face-to-face with Miss Natalia.

Arthur yelped out of surprise and nearly fell back onto his locker. "O-oh..." He uttered. "N-Natalia! You gave me quite the fright right there..." He said, trying to sooth himself and slow down his rapid heartbeat.

"You know about my brother and I?" She asked, her tone menacing to match her stone-cold gaze.

Arthur felt his heart drop before he smiled and tried to cover what he knew up. "I'm not sure I follow-"

"The Frenchie told you."

"Are you for cert-"

"And then you told the American."

"Uh-"

"If you tell anyone else, then your little secret is going straight to the American." Natalia interrupted for the final time, causing Arthur's eyes to nearly pop free from their sockets.

"WHAT!? HOW DO YOU KNOW!?" He screeched, his voice echoing down the hallway and confusing anyone who happened to hear it.

"The Frenchie likes to talk under pressure." Natalia explained, placing both of her hands on her hips as she stared down upon the quivering Brit. "You talk, then I talk. Correct?"

Gulping down some invisible force clogged in his throat, the Brit nodded nervously as if to save his own hide. "I understand..." He uttered, as Natalia huffed and satisfaction and began to make her exit by descending the nearest flight of stairs.

Arthur was nearly saved from the overwhelming wrath of Natalia, but Ivan just had to show up and make things a tad bit-a lot more-awkward.

The Brit was still catching his breath from the scare the platinum blonde girl gave him, as well as when the same girl exposed his secret, when he saw her older brother practically float on up the stairs. His heart nearly ceased its beating when Natalia shot him a gaze from over her shoulder before she approached Ivan-Ivan looking terrified and his face begging for someone's aide.

"Big brother!" Natalia cooed, skipping on over to Ivan's side where she thought she was presenting him with a sweet smile-though it seemed like a war weapon from the depths of Hell.

Ivan grinned nervously in return, the corners of his mouth struggling to stay up. "Oh... Hi, little sister." He greeted in that soft tone of his, made even more soft from his overwhelming fear of his sister.

Ivan noticed Arthur leaning against a locker down the hallway from them, Arthur's face just radiating a look of uncertainty. Then, Arthur was hit with an SOS look from the poor-poor Russian. Causing the Brit to grin as nervously as Ivan was before basically dashing off back to his mother's classroom; panting when he entered that very room.

Miss Morrígan glanced up from her work bag, since she was packing any homework she needed to grade at home, when her son opened and slammed the door shut. "Arthur, love, are you all right?" She asked, her eyes squinting as she tried to read the situation.

"Oh bloody hell... If I hadn't started all this, then I wouldn't be threatened by some scary women, I wouldn't have to be shedding my dignity in order to deliver more of those damn notes, I wouldn't-"

"Hold one for just a minute, Arthur." Morrígan interrupted, holding her hand up about to where her chest was as she did so. "What are you speaking of?"

"Huh? Oh. Nothing, Mum... Just spouting that's all." Arthur said, trying to keep his little note escapade a secret from his own mother still. He walked over to where his backpack was situated at his desk as his mother unhappily looked back down at her own bag-a nagging feeling banging against her chest.

Deep down she was well aware that something was occurring that she wasn't informed of. Arthur wasn't the type of lad who would have more than one friend, or have any friends for that matter, at any given moment. Now, he hung around Alfred, Francis, and occasionally Kiku and his journalism classmates constantly. Arthur normally spent after school with his mother, and never went out to parties or to other peoples houses on weekends. More often than not, recently, Arthur received rides home from Alfred and spent his weekends with the very same fellow-doing God knows what.

So, approximately one hour after that revelation, Morrígan and Arthur returned home, and Morrígan was dead set on spilling everything she's come to learn to her visiting son-who was sitting on the porch outside smoking a cigar. The mother's nose wrinkled at the scent of the burning tobacco, while her fiery red haired son inhaled it voluntarily into his lungs.

"Allistor... Something is happening to Arthur... He hasn't been himself as of late." Morrígan admitted as Allistor smashed his cigar against his portable ash tray.

"Go on."

"Mr. Beilschmidt passed by my student, Antonio's, house while there was a party. Supposedly, Arthur was there with Alfred... And Arthur is never home on the weekends! He either works or spends his time with Alfred! And there are rumors floating about of a student Alfred receiving notes from an anonymous source. I can't help but to think-"

"To think that Artie's involved?" Allistor jumped to the conclusion before Morrígan spoke. Once his mother shook her head, Allistor sighed and said, "Then put some repercussions on the lad."

"You think that will work?"

"It'll do somethin'. If he throws his famous hissy-fits then somethin's up."

Morrígan closed her eyes before sucking in a deep breath through her nose. "I suppose if it has to be done... I just want to ensure Arthur isn't going to get himself into any trouble..."


	12. Chapter 12

When Arthur headed down the stairs for dinner, he hadn't expected to be smacked upside the head with restrictions for everything he does. No use of his cell phone after dinner, a set curfew of seven thirty o'clock every night, no sleeping over at anyone's house, and especially no sneaking out of the house at night. When Arthur heard of this, his reaction was a nervous laugh with shifting eyes from his mother to the carpeted floor.

"Mum... Why are you adding rules?" Arthur inquired, the cat in his lap meowing loudly as he crawled out of his owner's lap and onto the silky smooth comforter.

Miss Morrígan shifted uncomfortable as she stood under the door frame leading into her youngest son's bedroom. She brought her hands together hovering a little above her chest, before fiddling with the sleeve of her wool cardigan. "I can't help to think that maybe..." She began. "No, nevermind that. I just want to ensure that you aren't doing anything... what's the word... shady? Yes, I think that's it."

"Mummy, I'm not doing anything sha-"

"You know what, Arthur? There is no talking me out of it this time!" Miss Morrígan dropped her hands back down to her side as her voice suddenly went from soft and soothing, to loud and proud. "Rules are rules! Now that's the end of it!"

The blonde mother huffed in accomplishment while she placed both her knuckles on her sides with a proud smile. As Arthur was placing his famous scowl on his face, Miss Morrígan turned herself around to leave the door frame so she could head on down the hallway and go down the steps. However, before she could even walk halfway down the hallway, she turned herself back around and skedaddled back to Arthur's room. She poked her head into the room, her long blonde locks drifting away from her shoulders , to say, "Oh, we ran out of flour for scones, so I will be out for a bit. Be good, okay?"

Arthur sighed in annoyance, slowly closing his calculus textbook before responding. "I will..."

"Thank you." Miss Morrígan grinned before trotting back down the hallway and officially disembarking from her humble abode, of course not before saying goodbye to Allistor in the living room.

Arthur listened to his dearest mother open and close the front door, before the faint noises of the family car's ignition starting up reached him. A mere minute had slipped on by before Arthur rose up from his sitting position to head down the hallway and descend the steps himself-his cat trotting behind the entire time. Stomping his feet, and his face turning red from anger, Arthur soon stood in between his big brother Allistor and the television.

"Oi, are you the one who convinced Mum to ground me?" Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow as he placed both his hands on his hips and leaned forward to invade Allistor's personal space.

Allistor propped an elbow onto the armrest, of the chair he was sitting upon, and placed his scratchy chin on his knuckles. "Aye." He replied, rather nonchalant about the whole predicament.

"Huh!?" Arthur's emerald eyes widened at the uncaring tone in his brother's voice. "You don't care one bit about it?"

"Nope."

"Then why did you tell Mum to ground me!?"

"'Cause, she's worried 'bout ye."

With those words processing in his mind, Arthur narrowed his eyes from confusion and raised both bushy eyebrows up this time around. "Worried about what?"

Allistor sighed. "I don't know for sure, 'kay? She thinks ye're gettin' caught up in shady business. An' she doesn't wanna see ye hurt."

"I'm not doing anything shady!" Arthur exclaimed, standing up straight as he ran a hand through his messy blonde hair.

"Oi, ye may say that, but our mum knows best." Allistor said, propping up his other elbow and resting his chin in his other knuckles. "Ye can deny, but the lass is just lookin' out for ye, Artie."

Arthur's brain space couldn't come up with something to shout back at Allistor, and prove his red-headed brother wrong. And since he didn't have an amazing comeback to end all comebacks, Arthur's face turned a brighter shade of red before he produced a strained cry of anger before he stomped all the way back up to his bedroom-once more his cat following him all the way back. He slammed open the door, and once he was fully inside the comforting aura of his private room, he slammed the door shut causing the noise to radiate throughout the house. Groaning, he flopped down onto his bed-his head nearly smacking itself on the calculus textbook abandoned there-and stared up at his celling.

A few moments later, Arthur's cell phone rang out before the screen lit up right beside Arthur's head. Arthur's reached for it as he sat up, scanning over the text he had just received from Alfred.

'The get together was a bust. U wanna ask your mom if u can come over and spend the night. So we can do some investigating :)'

'Sorry to disappoint. I'm not allowed to leave at night anymore. I think my mother is onto what I'm doing... So I'm grounded. When she comes back I'll get my phone taken away.'

'Srsly? Damn, dude...'

'Yeah, I know... We can investigate during lunch tomorrow.'

'Nah, dude. I gots a better idea :)'

'Which is?'

Arthur patiently waited for Alfred to respond to his question. Patiently waited for five minutes, which turned into ten, then slipped into the thirty minute zone. However, before he could wait any longer, Miss Morrígan returned from her shopping extravaganza and had requested that Arthur hand over his cellular device.

Unbeknownst to the aggravated Brit, Alfred indeed text him his plan, but that was after Arthur's phone was confiscated for the evening. The plan went into action when Arthur and his family were snoozing away at midnight. Since Arthur was the lightest sleeper on the entire face of the earth, he heard a knocking resonating from the glass window situated above the wooden writing desk. Arthur cracked open his eyes as Iggy-Cat woke up at the foot of the bed himself, and began to hiss from the possible danger he was sensing.

Arthur yawned as he rose up from the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He told his cranky cat to stay quiet, although those words never quite reached the hissing feline, before he tiptoed on over to the window to pull aside the curtains.

And he nearly had a heart attack when he saw what was on the other side of the glass.

Alfred was there with his usual beaming smile, perched on a tree branch that nearly touched the outside walls of the house. Arthur hurriedly, yet quietly, opened up the window to whisper-yell, "This isn't Romeo and Juliet, you git! What the bloody hell are you doing here!?"

"I'm here to see you, dude!" Alfred whispered right back. "We gotta investigate this chick!"

There was a silence between the two. The two of them staring at each other, Arthur with utmost bewilderment and Alfred with a childlike innocence harboring in his blue eyes, and the sounds of the tree leaves rustling in the wind began to rush into the room as Alfred asked. "Dude, I'm about to fall."

"Oh..."

Arthur held out his hand, and Alfred took it as a balance as he climbed through the window. Iggy-Cat stopped his hissing when he saw who it was, but sat straight up with a scowl he must've learned from his grumpy owner.

Arthur slowly closed the window as Alfred made himself confortable on the other side of the bed-that wasn't disturbed while Arthur was asleep-but unfortunately kicked the cat out of the bed right when Arthur sat down on his own side of the bed. "I hope you know my eldest brother is staying with us until Saturday. If he comes in here, he'll have your head."

"Eh, I'll take my chances." Alfred replied, taking the subject matter lightly as Arthur's expression dropped.

"I don't think that that is something that should be taken lightly..."

"Why? It's just your brother."

"That knows how to fire a rifle and a shotgun, and can throw a knife like he can a dart; and back in Scotland he's known for being a darts champion at his favorite pub."

"Uh-"

"Did I forget to mention he can brawl like those fighters in those MMA fights? When he and Patrick were in high school, he snapped one of Patrick's bully's arms in half before breaking his nose. I got called out of elementary school early that day so Mum could give us a family lecture."

Alfred produced a nervous chuckle. "Well, um..."

"Then I suppose we should get on with the investigation. Shall we?"

"Yes please."


	13. Chapter 13

"You've came up with a very simplistic plan..."

"She's like the last person on the list-er-besides you. So if she says no, then it's you, dude!"

"Going straight up to her and asking if she did it is... odd..."

Despite all the pleading from Arthur stating that their plan should be reconsidered, Alfred beamed at the Brit and stated, "We're gonna go in and just get this done. Kay?"

Arthur sighed, a tightening feeling forming in his chest due to his rising levels of concern for tomorrow morning. "We'll meet up in the morning then. Meet her by her locker, right?"

Alfred shook his head yes, his cowlick bouncing up and down, as he began to rise up from Arthur's bed-Iggy-Cat taking back hid rightful spot once Alfred had left. "Yep. I'll see ya in the morning, dude!" He said, well more like whispered due to the other sleeping members of the household. Alfred went over to the window and pushed it on up, the chilly outside air blowing inside and causing Arthur and his cranky cat to feel shivers climb up their spines. Alfred carefully placed one foot at a time out of the window and out onto the branch he climbed up earlier. He did a mock salute to his British friend before he descended the tree trunk, and causing Arthur to get up from his comfortable bedding to close the widow and lock it.

Arthur sighed deeply once he closed the window, butterflies beating their thin wings inside his gut. He turned his head over his shoulder to glance over at his beloved cat, only to see it's green eyes glaring at him to return to bed. "Oh..." Arthur grumbled while he returned to his bed and sat down on his bum, slowly reclining back until his head hit his fluffed pillow. "In a few hours I'm either going to have a bloody boyfriend, or I'll be ridiculed by that git until graduation..." He mumbled to his cat-who had begun trying to go back to sleep.

'Let's just pray for the best, yes?'

With that motivational sentence repeating in his mind, Arthur laid awake praying that time would slow its roll and allow him ample time to prepare himself for the morning ahead.

However, considering his luck and all, the sun came up over the horizon in what felt like minutes. Arthur huffed as he dragged himself out of bed to shower up and dress himself in his uniform-readjusting his perfectly done tie everytime he saw his reflection in a shiny object.

At breakfast, which consisted of morning tea and slightly runny scrambled eggs, Arthur picked at his food with his fork and barely indulged in a sip from his tea. Which, Miss Morrígan noticed after Allistor lightly elbowed her side and gestured to the anxious boy. "Arthur, love." She called out, her voice soft yet strong enough to cause her blonde son to glance up at his mother. "Is something the matter? You have yet to touch your food..."

"Hm..." Arthur placed his fork down on the table. "I have a presentation in Journalism today. I have to pitch an article for the school paper and I'm nervous for it."

Miss Morrígan squinted her eyes, finally seeing through Arthur's ruse, yet she decided to question him on his lie. "All right, poppet. What is the article about?"

"Oh. It's about prom. Since, it's coming up and all." Arthur hastily said.

This time, Allistor squinted his eyes in thought buy decided to remain quite and head outside to the porch, in order to smoke his first cigar of the day. Arthur stood up and dumped his eggs in the trash, and watched his brown tea go down the drain. He grabbed his cell phone, which Miss Morrígan set on the counter when she came down to cook breakfast, and saw all the texts detailing how Alfred was going to meet him last night.

Soon after, Miss Morrígan placed the dishes in the sink-for future cleaning-and grabbed her bags before she embarked with Arthur to the high school. Once they both walked through the entrance door, Arthur said goodbye and headed to his target's locker. And he was surprised to see Alfred lingering about by the lockers so early in the morning.

"Good morning...?" Arthur greeted as he walked towards Alfred. "Why are you here so early? Don't you normally show up when it is five minutes before the first class?"

"Yep." Alfred nodded, shoving his hands into his pant pockets. "But I just couldn't sleep, y'know? Today I get to finally find out who's been doing this. You already know, but I get to now!"

Arthur felt a smile creep onto his face at Alfred's excitement. "There's only two options left. No matter what, you are going to find out."

"Yeah. I can't wait, dude."

Arthur's fragile little heart began to beat faster and faster as he and Alfred waited for their target to arrive to her locker. In a matter of moments, Alfred was to learn that Arthur was indeed the maestro of all the notes he received. Arthur was tapping his foot against the tiled floor for twenty minutes before the sight of a girl-who normally hung around Natalia-entering his view as she walked closer to the pair.

The girl, however, wasn't the girl they were waiting for.

"Alfred?" The girl called out, her black hair swishing with each step she took. "Oh! It really is you!" She said, her voice a little too over-excited as she rushed over to the American and his grumpy British friend.

"Yeah... Who're you?" Alfred asked, his eyebrow raising up as Arthur's furrowed together with confusion.

"Those notes. They're mine! I wrote them for you!"

Then and there, Arthur felt his world begin to crumble.

But, Alfred's face lit up brighter than Arthur has ever seen. "Really!? But, you're name wasn't on the list..."

The girl seemed dumbfounded for a bit, struggling to find something to say in response. She recovered rather quickly, and say, "That's because I was dating someone when I wrote the first one. It was a horrible relationship, and I was hoping I could be with you once I broke free."

Alfred glanced down at Arthur, his expression asking the Brit if this was the individual who wrote the notes. Arthur wanted, so desperately, to scream at the girl and catch her in her lies and claim that he was the true culprit behind the notes. But, the look on Alfred's face. How happy Alfred was with the girl claiming responsibility with the note, then Arthur began to think about how sad Alfred would be knowing an average-looking Briton was the culprit and not some bombshell babe he could brag about.

Just keeping his mind on Alfred's happiness, Arthur shook his head yes. Then watched as Alfred brought the girl into his arms and kissed her then and there.

Arthur felt something warm pool into his eyes, causing his emerald eyes to burn slightly, and something felt as if it was clogging his throat before he stood up and left his crush with another woman. He covered his mouth with his small hand as the warm tears spilled over and cascaded down his pale cheeks; hustling towards his mother's classroom so he could sob in private.

Once more, considering Arthur's luck, Miss Morrígan wasn't in the teacher's lounge but was actually sitting at her desk. She glanced up from her paperwork just in time to see Arthur's walls break down and watching him collapse onto the floor. Gasping, she jolted up from her seat and hurried along to reach her son on the floor. She kneeled down and cupped Arthur's face, trying to brush away his crystal blue with her thumbs but there was an abundance of tears so she couldn't clean up all of them. "Arthur, love, what's wrong? What happened?"

"I-It's not fair, M-Mummy... I-I w-wrote those notes! I s-should be the o-one with Alfred! N-Not some b-bloke who s-stole-"

"Arthur, slow down. Love, what happened?"

Arthur began to hiccup as he tried to stop his crying, yet the tears kept flowing over his eyes. His puffy green eyes stared into his own mother's, as he opened his mouth to tell her the story thus far.


	14. Chapter 14

Miss Morrígan was left speechless at her son's story. All the partying and drinking she suspected simply turned out to be part of a much bigger story. With slightly shaking arms, Miss Morrígan snaked her arms around her son's petit body, resting her chin on top his messy locks of blonde hair. "Oh, Arthur... Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't startle her son. Her small hands began to rub circles on Arthur's clothed back as she felt him calm down in her arms.

"I thought if I-I told you, you would s-shut it all down..." He admitted, his voice not quite as shaky as it was before. "N-now... I wish I would've told y-you, Mum..." He began to shake again, remembering everything that happened just moments ago.

"How about you stay home for the day, poppet?" Miss Morrígan said, placing her hands on her son's shoulders to slowly push him off of her. She looked into his eyes with a small, sad, smile creeping onto her face. "Allistor can come get you, and I'm sure he'll watch you until he has to leave for the airport." She cupped Arthur's cheeks and brought his head closer, so she could plant a kiss on hid forehead. "Okay? I can call Allistor right now. I can ask Francis if he can gather up your homework for the day." Miss Morrígan whispered on Arthur's forehead.

Arthur sniffled, bringing his sleeve up to his nose and wiping excess mucus onto it. "O-okay, Mum... If you insist."

One phone call later, Allistor was in his rental car in front of the school. He watched with concerned eyes as Arthur walked out of the school, with his arms hugging his own body as he kept his eyes pointed to the ground, and straight into the car. Allistor wasn't briefed on the whole story when his mother called him. All he held knowledge about was that Arthur was in an extremely emotional state, and was going to crack if he went to school that day. Luckily for Allistor, however, on the car ride home Arthur decided to retell the story. Which nearly caused Allistor's face to turn as red as his hair, and nearly caused him to suddenly turn the car around so he could beat this Alfred into a bloody pulp.

However, they had pulled up into the driveway before Allistor could do such a thing.

Arthur slowly climbed out of the car, his back slightly hunched as he walked into the house dejectedly. Both he and his eldest brother Allistor slipped off their shoes before they traveled further into the home-Iggy-Cat mewing softly from his spot on the armchair.

"Oi, Artie." Allistor called out as soon as Arthur was ready to climb up the steps. Arthur turned to look at his brother, before Allistor continued with, "I know we hadn't seen each other in four years, 'fore this. I know we ain't exactly the closest of siblin's. But, I just wanna let ye know, that if ye ever wanna talk. Ye have my number."

Arthur felt a genuine smile appear a on his face as he nodded. "All right... Thanks, Allistor."

Nodding as well, Allistor allowed Arthur to escape up and into his room. Before the red-headed Kirkland went up to his guest room to pack his bags.

Once in his room, Arthur set his light backpack down by his door before he sat down on his bed. He didn't bother to lie down, he was too immersed in his thoughts to do so. He began to think about what if he had debunked that girl's statement, and then showed proof that he was the one who wrote the letter. Would Alfred have been disgusted? Would Alfred have been ecstatic? Would Alfred had felt embarrassed with pursuing the note? Only to come to the conclusion that the non-popular Arthur was behind it all.

Arthur was beginning to regret his decision of allowing the girl to snatch Alfred from him.

Stealing him away from his thoughts was his cellphone buzzing in his pocket. Arthur jumped slightly at the sudden disturbance before he slipped his phone out of his pocket. Only to see a farewell text from Allistor-since the elder brother had officially left the house while Arthur was staring off into space-on top of a text from Francis.

Which read as, 'Where are you? Sick? Dead?'

'I'm at home. I'm not sick nor am I dead.'

'Did you forget to finish a project?'

'No... Alfred's dating someone else now. Some bloody girl claimed she wrote the letter... And I let her.'

The next text arrived ten minutes later, which Arthur could only assume was because of Francis' shock to the news. Arthur could simply imagine Francis' mouth hanging open before he forced Kiku to read the message, to ensure his fabulous eyes hadn't misread anything. 'Mon dieu...' Was the simple reply, which was followed with, 'I need to see this for myself...'

'Go ahead... Alfred's happy with her, at least. In the end, I guess that's what I really cared about.'

'You don't mind being heartbroken for the sake of Alfred's happiness?'

'The tables could've been flipped if I had told Alfred I was really the one behind the notes.'

No reply came from Francis after that. It must've been because the self-proclaimed God of Love had nothing to say back to his devastated grumpy friend.

That didn't mean Francis didn't have a single word to say to Alfred, however.

So, when lunch time rolled around, Francis had invited Alfred to the senior locker area for a 'friendly' little chat. Luckily, no one was traveling about in the hallways to hear Francis say, "I hope you're happy, mon ami..."

Despite the venom evident in Francis' words, Alfred didn't seem to sense that and replied with his famous beaming smile-a smile that normally caused Arthur to blush and feel as if his knees were to buckle in. "Isn't it great!? I found the girl behind the notes! I couldn't be happier!"

"Alfred, don't you see that you broke his heart?"

"Hm? What're you talking about, dude?"

Before Francis could reveal Arthur's role with the notes, the despicable girl from that morning came running up to Alfred, and hugged her new boyfriend from the side. "Alfred! There you are! We should go out for lunch! Just you and me!" She said, her voice overly sweet and her actions of affection being overly exaggerated.

"Sure, babe." Alfred agreed, beaming down at his new girlfriend. "I'll see ya' later, dude."

Francis watched as the American and his fake girlfriend head down the steps-their destination being the parking lot where Alfred's sports car was parked in. Francis brushed a hand through his naturally curled blonde locks as he took in a deep breath.

"Sacre bleu, Alfred... You broke Arthur's heart, Crétin."


	15. Chapter 15

As much as it broke his fragile heart to do so, Arthur began to distance himself away from Alfred. Arthur couldn't glance at Alfred without feeling his chest constrict, and having a faint burning sensation in both his eyes and his throat. Despite being dumped two previous time, Arthur hadn't felt such an incredibly painful heartache before-and he didn't even date Alfred for a second!

The day after the infamous heartbreak of Arthur Kirkland, the school's student council had pinned up posters, about the school, depicting the arrival of the prom. Tickets for the event were all ready on sale, and the girls of the school began to go dress shopping-even though prom was a month and three weeks away and they could easily gain weight while they waited for prom to come about. The halls were filled with that kind of chatter; and all it did was crush the pieces of Arthur's heart into even tinier pieces.

Fortunately for the blonde Brit, he had three people acting as his support system through this tough time of his. His new best friend slash rival Francis, his mother Miss Morrígan, and his eldest brother Allistor.

At school, Francis and Arthur were attached at the hip. With his best wishes aside, Francis kept Arthur's role in the notes a secret from Alfred. Francis stuck around Arthur to ensure the Brit wouldn't collapse from grief during class, and often showed up at the Kirkland household to be the friend Arthur so desperately needed. At home, Miss Morrígan was always fretting over Arthur. She would force her son to watch soap operas with her and she would force her son to eat his lunch in her classroom. And during the night, Allistor always had his phone on for Arthur. It didn't matter if it was midnight, if Arthur so desperately needed to talk with his eldest brother, Allistor would have his cell phone out until four in the morning if needed.

With time, Arthur found his heartache to disappear, alongside his friendship with Alfred. Any sort of conversation between the two turned into simple hellos and goodbyes. Arthur would scurry away as far as he could when he saw Alfred alongside his new girlfriend. And, of course, Miss Morrígan wouldn't permit Arthur traveling with Francis in order to see Alfred.

But, that was all going to change when Francis invited Arthur to go tuxedo shopping with him. And had completely failed to mention that Alfred was tagging along too.

At a tuxedo shop, Arthur trailed along unhappily as Francis and Alfred were searching about for their perfect tuxedos for prom-since prom was now exactly one week away. Alfred would pick out the tuxedos that belonged in the eighties, since they appeared so ridiculous, which caused Arthur to roll his eyes and chuckle at the American's taste-and caused him to dig up those feelings of love he tried to bury long ago.

"I wish Amy would keep sending those notes." Alfred absentmindedly said while at the tuxedo shop. He was simply glancing at the fine collection the store had to offer when he said it. Not noticing how, right behind him, Arthur tensed up and how, right beside him, Francis turned to look at his bushy-eyebrowed friend with a worry look.

Slowly, Arthur opened his mouth to say, "Why do you still need the notes if you found out who it is, ninny?"

"It'd be real cool, dude. It'd give our relationship that bit of mystery. Y'know?"

 _'Of course there wouldn't be any more notes, you bloody moron... You ended up with the wrong person... There would be more if you were with me...'_

Francis turned his head over his shoulder, in order to see how Arthur was reacting to all of this. He wasn't quite expecting Arthur to have his mouth partially agape with his eyes somewhat wider-a look that was often labeled as the look he held when he had an idea. When Alfred returned to looking through the tuxedos, in various shades of grey, Francis pulled out his cell phone and began to text Arthur.

'You have that face. What're you planning on doing?'

Arthur's phone vibrated in his pocket, causing him to hum softly in surprise when it did. He scanned over the message before texting back, 'I have an idea of what I want to do... I just need to write a note before I do anything else.'

'Mon dieu... It's going to be something really stupid... Right?'

'More than likely. But I'm going for it.'

'It's your head on the chopping block...'

"Yo, dudes, who're you texting?" Alfred's voice ended up breaking the two men away from their texting conversation.

"Just mon chéri~ she was telling me what color her dress was for prom." Francis answered, managing to cover up their conversation.

Arthur pocketed his phone and turned to look at the exit door of the shop. "I was texting my mum... I need to get home now..."

Alfred turned his head over his shoulder, a small frown evident on his lips. "Aw, 'kay dude. I'll see ya at school then."

"Au revoir, mon ami. I'll visit you later. Anyway, Alfred, that tuxedo will have you burned at the stake..."

Arthur nodded before he picked up each of his feet and wandered right out of the store. Despite the heat being rather unforgiving, Arthur slipped on his coat before heading on home-walking the few miles since he didn't want to bother his mother. As his shoes tapped against the concrete sidewalk, Arthur was dragged deeper and deeper into his thoughts. Inside the tuxedo shop, he conceived a plan that would end with Alfred finding out about Arthur's true role in the notes. He felt a smirk creep onto his lips at the though of Alfred's girlfriend being caught in her lies. Even if Alfred rejected him, at least he would know the truth in the end.

All that was left was to write one last note for prom.


	16. Chapter 16

Arthur didn't expect prom to be so... underwhelming. The movies make it seem as if it will be the time off you life. However, the entire dance reeked of alcohol-from the punch bowl that was spiked to oblivion-and body odor. The boy member of the dancing couples were simply waiting before they could go home and possibly lose their virginity to their dates. While the girls were complaining about their heels and complimenting other girl's dresses-even though they didn't mean it in the slightest.

And then, you got the students who didn't have a date but showed up anyway. Yes, poor Arthur was a part of that group.

Arthur's tuxedo was a bit too loose on him, since he and his mother couldn't get one that would fit his scrawny form-and it was far too late to get any altercations. The atrocious choices in music made his ears throb in pain and made him want to get up and abandon his mission. And, he did have a sip of the spiked punch and felt a bit woozy. However, a neatly folded up note was hiding in Arthur's pocket. The final note to be sent to Alfred, that is.

Whenever Arthur was ready, he would send a text to Francis, who was on the dance floor. From there, Francis would go be a bother to Alfred and tell the American to hustle up and go to his locker. While Francis was doing his part, Arthur would have planted the note in Alfred's locker and booked it out of there before his crush could arrive. Hopefully after Alfred read the note, he would realize his mistake and try to correct it.

That was the plan, and all Arthur could do was to hope it would work.

For now, Arthur would let both Francis and Alfred to have a bit more fun practically dry-humping their dates on the dance floor-exactly like everyone else inside that gymnasium- before Arthur sent the text. And he would just have to talk with his mother on the bleachers. Since neither of them had a date to dance with.

Miss Morrígan knew about the plan her son had crafted. She had overheard the plans when Francis was over at the Kirkland house for dinner a few days prior. She was nervous for her son, to say the least. His plan to capture Alfred's heart had failed the first time, so who's to say that it won't fail a second time? Eventually, she reached over a gently grabbed Arthur's right hand and placed it in her lap; both of her hands encasing her son's hand. "Arthur... If your plan does not work out, just remembered that I'm still here for you. And I'm sure Francis will be. You'll also have Dylan when you leave for England for college."

Arthur felt Miss Morrígan squeeze his hand before he said, "Thanks, Mum... I'm just hoping things will go my way and I won't need a bloody support system afterwards."

"I hope so too. But if anything goes wrong, we can leave early, okay?" Miss Morrígan tried to reassure, giving off her brightest smile in an attempt to brighten Arthur's spirits.

"All right." Arthur responded, slipping his hand out of his mother's hold. "Speaking of which, I should probably go ahead with the plan." He stood up while retrieving his phone from his pocket. He hastily texted Francis and waited a moment to take in a deep breath before heading on out of the gymnasium.

Arthur was moving at a slower pace than he had anticipated. As soon as he exited the gymnasium, he slipped his note out of his pocket and was now turning it repeatedly in his hands. Absentmindedly, he navigated his way through the school and nearly walked head first into Alfred's locker while he was stuck in his thoughts.

When Arthur was snatched from his thoughts, he realized the locker held the same decorations as it did when Arthur slipped the first note about two months prior. It still had the same notes from the cheerleaders, the same proclamation of Alfred's place on the football team, and the same decorative streamers the blew onto Arthur's bare locker with just a little wind.

Though, Arthur shouldn't have doted on Alfred's locker decorations, since the owner of the locker had snuck up right behind him.

"Artie...?" He called out, squinting his eyes. His voice cause Arthur squeal in fear and turn around to face whoever snuck up on him, allowing Alfred to see the note in Arthur's hand. "Francis said that someone left a note in my locker... So I thought my girlfriend left something in there... But why do you have the note...?"

Arthur's green eyes widened as he realized that he was caught red handed. "Because... Uh... Um..." Arthur felt as if the wind was knocked out of his chest before he lowered his head to mutter, "I was the one behind the notes..."

Alfred's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. "Wait-wait-wait! Dude? You're telling me you're really the one behind the notes!?"

Arthur visibly flinched due to Alfred's loud tone and his word choices. Rather than opening his trap to explain the situation, Arthur held out the hand that had the note in it. A few moments later, Alfred snatched up the note and unfolded it. His eyes scanning over the words as Arthur's aura suddenly became filled with melancholy.

'You tore out my heart and crushed it. You wrung it out and prolonged my suffering... but I let you do it. You ended up with the wrong person, and I sat back with a smile. I watched you kiss her, fondle her, fawn over her... while I hid my sorrow behind a mask of feigned happiness. For the sake of your happiness, I suffered. And I hope you are thankful for that.'

Alfred felt as if his own heart was crushed within his chest, as he realized the ginormous mistake he made. But, when Alfred looked up from the note, Arthur was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

Arthur was thoroughly surprised that he managed to slip away without alerting Alfred. Alfred was so immersed in the newly uncovered note, he didn't account for the soft pattering of Arthur's shoes as the Brit snuck off. Even though Alfred hadn't expressed any feelings of anger, Arthur felt as if Alfred was going to yell at him as soon as he finished reading the note.

Little did the self-conscious Brit know, Alfred was reciprocating the same feelings of love he was inflicted with.

After getting down a single floor, Arthur surprisingly ran all the way back to the gym-but, it was more like a brisk jog. The dance floor seemingly became more chaotic in the time that he was absent. The punch bowl was tipped over, the teachers were pulling apart couples since the teenagers needed to 'make room for Jesus', the ballad for the prom king and queen was being rigged, and the dance floor itself seemed in approached due to the flailing dances of the students.

Which would be a great distraction for Arthur to make his escape.

After observing his peers, Arthur returned to his waiting mother at the bleachers. Miss Morrígan glanced up at her son, and took note of the worry appearing in his facial features. "Did Alfred reject it?" She asked while she stood up from the bleachers.

"U-uh... Not quite..." Arthur admitted, his eyes constantly darting towards the door and back to his mother. "Can we go home. Please?"

"Why?"

"I don't want to be here when he comes back."

Miss Morrígan's facial features softened as she watched her son's gaze drop to the floor. Without saying a word, she turned around to grab her purse off the bleachers, and turned right back around and lead herself and her son out of the gynasium.

Only a few moments later did Alfred arrived.

Somewhat panting, Alfred threw open the double doors and began to frantically look around for any signs of Arthur. Well, he found all sorts of blondes. Dyed blondes, natural blondes, greasy haired blondes. But not the one he was searching for.

However, he did find Francis trying to sneak out of the prom with his girlfriend-the both of them clearly tipsy from the alcohol mixed in with the fruit punch Kool-Aid.

"Hey, Francis, dude!" Alfred called out, bulldozing his way through the crowd to reach Francis. "Have you seen Artie anywhere?"

Francis' eyes widened when Alfred asked him the question. "What do you mean, mon ami? Arthur was there when you read the note. Oui?"

"Yeah, he was. When I looked up, the dude was gone."

"That sneaky lapin..."

Alfred cleared his throat. "Any clue where he is?"

"He was sitting at the bleachers with his mother."

"I already checked there."

"Perhaps he went to the restroom?"

"Checked that."

"Maybe he's getting some punch?"

"Dude, we're right next to the punch table and I don't see him near us."

"He probably went home, then."

With that being said, Alfred was about ready to burst out of the school and jump right into his car. However, that plan had to be aborted as soon as Alfred's precious little girlfriend emerged from the crowd and latched onto his arm.

"Here you are Alfred~" She cooed, her voice suddenly becoming sickening to the American. "I've been looking all over for you! They're about to announce the prom king and queen! My friend's said they voted for us!"

Alfred felt as if he was about to vomit due to the little leech cutting off the circulation in his arm. Francis quickly flashed Alfred a look of concern when the poor American was dragged further into the crowd.

The overseer of the Student Council stepped onto the stage, tapping the microphone a few times before speaking. "We have all the votes for your prom king and queen added up!" She announced, her voice exaggeratedly cheerful. "We'll be announcing them right now!"

Alfred felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, which was luckily on the opposite side of his girlfriend. With his non-dominant hand left hand, he reached into his pocket and slipped out his phone. Seeing that Arthur had sent him a text.

'I'm sorry about the notes... Disregard them and have fun with your girlfriend.'

Before he could slowly type something back with his thumb, Alfred faintly heard something about the prom queen followed by his girlfriend's name. And then he felt all the blood rushing back into his right arm. The crowd was cheering around him, and some of his former teammates on the football team suddenly came up behind him and patted him on the shoulder.

"And our prom king is~!" The overseer had to pause for a moment to open up an envelope that was closed with a strip of duct tape. "The star quarterback, Alfred F. Jones."

Despite the crowd cheering on his accomplishment, Alfred couldn't help but to feel washed over with melancholy. He simply stood there, his former teammates attempting to push him towards the stairs, unsure of what to do.

Either he could walk onto that stage, relish in his fifteen seconds of fame. Thus ending up with the wrong person-who was currently glaring at him to get a move on and join her on the stage. Or, he could ditch and make amends with Arthur. Breaking up with his current girlfriend, and ending up with the real mastermind behind the notes.

The choice was rather obvious.

No one can really resist a Brit.

Alfred turned himself around and began to push his way through the crowd. Everyone was gasping in shock around him, but he thought like Arthur for a moment and came to the conclusion that they wouldn't remember this moment in two years time.

When Alfred was about to reach the doors, his girlfriend hustled over to the microphone and said into it, "Alfred, darling, where are you going!?"

Alfred turned his head over his shoulder and shouted. "I'm gonna go get with the real person behind all those love letters." He flashed his golden smile, causing the crowd to burst out into quiet murmurs. "We're done."


	18. Chapter 18

Arthur was thankful he could slip out of his tuxedo when he arrived home. He could finally rid himself of the events that unfolded, and focus on packing up and his big move to England in the coming two days. He dug through his dresser and put on his trademark oversized sweater and trousers since Miss Morrígan had offered to take him out for ice cream at a local dinner-something they used to do together when Arthur was much smaller and a little less dead inside. Until then, he occupied himself with packing his things, and some of Iggy-Cat's toys, into cardboard boxes that would be shipped to England for his brother, Dylan, to deal with.

Miss Morrígan had changed into something more comfortable as well, and was picking up a bit before she and her son would make their leave. However, she didn't account for someone knocking at their door at ten o'clock at night. She hollered, "Coming!" from her upstairs bedroom before hustling down the steps to reach the front door-being mindful not to step on her dress.

She swung open the front door believing it to be either a neighbor delivering something she could've lost in the neighborhood park, or perhaps some insurance guy trying to sales pitch her a new smoke alarm.

It was neither of those. It was actually Alfred.

Miss Morrígan's eyes narrowed as she glared dagger into the blonde boy before her. She placed a hand on her hip, the other holding onto the door, as she said, "May I ask why you are here, Mr. Jones? It's quite late."

"I'm here to see Artie, Miss Kirkland." Alfred replied, his voice sounding hectic as if he wanted to rush in there as soon as humanly possible.

"What makes you think I'm going to let you?" She shot back, her voice gaining in volume and overflowing with authority. "You broke his heart well enough all ready. I'm not going to let you do it again."

Miss Morrígan was about ready to slam the door in Alfred's face, and officially cut away any ties between him and her fragile son. However, what Alfred said next made her change her mind. "I'm not here to break his heart... I'm here to make things right."

The blonde mother hadn't expected Alfred to say anything like that. She was kept frozen, mid-way through closing the door. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm here to make things right with Artie, Miss Kirkland."

Miss Morrígan stood there for a moment, frozen, as she stared at the ground. She wanted to slam the door in the boy's face, and protect her son from another heartbreak. However, Alfred never had a clue that he was causing Arthur's misery. Granted, she should cut Alfred here some slack.

Alfred was about to give up on all hope, since Arthur's mother was simply standing there in her thought. But, the door slowly began to creak open as Miss Morrígan stepped aside.

"If you hurt my Arthur again, your head will be mounted on my wall."

Gulping, Alfred nodded and cautiously brushed passed Miss Morrígan at the door. "Hehe... I'll keep that in mind..." He nervously muttered before he bolted towards, and up, the steps and straight to Arthur's room.

Taking in a deep breath, Alfred knocked his knuckle against the wooden door of Arthur's room before barging on in... And catching sight of Arthur packing up his belongings.

"Dude..." Alfred said, causing Arthur to jump and turn to face Alfred at his door. "What's all this...?"

"Um..." Arthur's eyes widened as he moved to stand in front of the boxes on top of his desk. "Well, isn't this bad timing...!"

"Artie..."

"I'm moving... To England... For college... In two days..." Arthur admitted, wincing as he waited for Alfred to begin yelling at the Brit for never telling him about the whole college move.

"Why didn't you..." Alfred drifted off when he took note of the barren walls, the empty bookshelves, and the filled boxes being stacked by the door. Even though Alfred had came to mend Arthur's heart back together, he just couldn't help but to feel as if his own heart was about to split into half.

Arthur hugged himself around the waist as he glanced down at the floor, avoiding any eye contact with Alfred. "Right after you started dating her, I called my brother Dylan and asked if he would house me if I went to college in England... He agreed, and I got accepted to the college shortly after... I was hoping that I could slip away without you noticing. That perhaps we could both forget about each other."

"That's really stupid, Artie..."

"Come again?"

"Geez, I guess life isn't like the movies. I came here after breaking up with my girlfriend, and now you're moving? I think you brushed your bad luck onto me."

"I'm sorry that- Wait." Arthur paused, thinking about what Alfred just said. "You broke up with her...?"

"Yeah! I made it my goal to find the guy behind the notes. And that's you, dude! I was with the wrong person, so I came here to make things right with you."

Arthur blinked rapidly when everything clicked in his head. "Huh... Isn't this a comedy of errors..." He thought out loud before shaking his head and saying. "It was never going to work out, even if you never dated her... That's why I stayed away until now..."

"We wouldn't know that until we got together, dude..."

"I'm sorry that I didn't think about that while my heart was broken!"

"...but we can test it out before you leave..." Alfred said, finally stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him-mostly so Miss Morrígan wouldn't be able to eavesdrop as easily on their conversation from the living room.

"Before I leave?" Arthur finally glanced up from the floor to stare Alfred dead in the eyes. "I leave in two days. It won't make a difference..."

"Dude, we won't know that either."

"Ugh, fine! When I'm not packing I'll go out with you!" Arthur shouted, his face eventually turning cherry red when he realized everything he just stated to Alfred.

"Great, dude! How about we go now?"

"I can't. Mum was going to take me out for ice cream soon."

"...then how about tomorrow?"

"Of course."

Alfred beamed. "I'll be here at noon then! And before I go~"

Alfred slowly took steps forward while Arthur watched his movements with curious eyes. Eventually, Alfred was invading Arthur's personal bubble as he pulled the Brit to his chest, and pressed his lips against the more delicate pair. Arthur released a rather unmanly squeal when he felt Alfred rest his hands on his feminine hips. But, Arthur wouldn't trade this moment for the world.

And the blushed, flustered, look remained on Arthur's face even when he went out for mint chocolate chip ice cream.


	19. Chapter 19

Arthur hadn't expected to be having a date with Alfred F. Jones himself. He did work for this moment by writing those notes, but deep down he never thought that he would be honored to be on a date with the American of his dreams.

But now here he was, sitting in a adorable retro dinner having lunch with the aforementioned bloke. He donned his usual tacky sweater and tie combo, as well as impressively wrinkleless trousers, and sat there drenched with nervousness and kept darting his eyes to different sections of the room in order to evade staring at Alfred.

Alfred ate his entire lunch plate, consisting of a well-done cheeseburger alongside some crispy fries, before Arthur could even swallow his first bite of his ham-and-cheese sandwich. The tacky 60's music was playing over the retro jukebox, the dinner was crowded with hopeful writers staring out the window for inspiration, businessmen looking for a quick bite to eat, and the usuals who came in solely for the 'world famous' pancakes. Chit-chatter was floating all around the establishment, except in the booth where Alfred and Arthur were sitting.

For their first date... This was rather embarrassing.

The two of them have been silent towards one another ever since Alfred picked up Arthur from his home. Alfred wanted to talk, mind you, but Arthur didn't seem as if he was in the mood for such an exercise. Arthur was far too busy avoiding eye contact with him, and nervously tapping his foot against the tiled floor, to engage in any social contact with Alfred.

That didn't mean that Alfred wouldn't try to initiate a conversation.

"So, uh, Artie." Alfred began, staring straight forward at Arthur.

"If it is about my move to England, I'd rather you not say anything about it. Thank you." Arthur interrupted, his eyes finally resting on the window they were next to-watching the cars speed past one by one.

However, Alfred's mouth zipped shut when he realized he didn't have much to say that wasn't pertaining to Arthur saddling up and moving away.

So, they sat there for a hot minute in another wave of silence. Seeing that Alfred didn't have any other conversation topic, Arthur finally cracked and said, "Fine, if you want to talk about it, that's fine."

"Okay, good! 'Cause I was really wondering how we are going to make this thing work since you're moving and all that. Like, are we gonna Skype? Or just call and text each other? Maybe visit each other over holidays?" Alfred spat out in one gigantic breath as soon as Arthur allowed him to speak.

"Hold on for a moment." Arthur interrupted once again. "Since when were we a couple?" He asked, finally glancing over at Alfred.

"Since I kissed you last night."

"That doesn't automatically mean we are a couple..."

"I think we're a couple."

"Fine-fine, I suppose we are." Arthur said rater nonchalantly, before his face turned beet red after the realization of his statement smacked him upside the head.

"Great!" Alfred beamed, causing his British partner's cheeks to flare up in a brighter shade of red. "But, how are we gonna make things work?"

Arthur shook his head in an attempt to erase the flush covering his face. "I feel like I should be the one asking you that question..."

"I said we could call and text each other. And use Skype or somethin'."

"And take trips on holidays?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind goin' to London. So long as it doesn't rain the entire time I'm there." Alfred said before taking a sip of his sugary, carbonated, brown beverage.

"Chances are that I'll come back to visit Mum. So, I can swing by and see you too."

"I guess we got that part covered." Alfred slurped the rest of his soda-pop before continuing. "Anyway, what time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"At eight in the morning. I'll be leaving my house at six, though." Arthur said. Their waitress walked by and the Brit quickly asked for a to-go container to take home his sandwich-which only had one bite taken out of-and chips for his dear mother to have.

"Dude, that's real early..."

"I'm well aware of that."

Arthur's to-go box was handed to him and Alfred was handed the check as well. Both of them placed money down for their meals-despite Alfred telling Arthur that he was more than happy to pay the entire bill.

Arthur's phone was buzzing in his worn bag so he pulled it out. He read over the series of texts his mother had sent him. "Mum's having trouble loading my belongings in her car. I need to go help her." Arthur said, placing his phone back into his bag and placing the strap over his shoulder.

"Hm, okay dude. I'll take you home."

The two waited for the waitress to come back with the receipt, and their change, and they placed a tip on the table before heading to Alfred's cherry red sports car.

Alfred sped through the streets, causing Arthur's carsickness to reappear and ail him with nausea. Alfred sang along with every song that the radio was blaring out, even using his elbow to nudge Arthur in the side, and welcoming the Brit to sing along with him-even though the Brit rolled his eyes and refused to participate in such an idiotic thing. Luckily, however, they reached Arthur's home before the Brit could vomit up his one bite of his sandwich.

So, Alfred watched as Arthur walked up the concert steps of his home, and opened the door to his abode before entering. Once Arthur was out of his sights, Alfred put his sports car into reverse and backed out of the driveway.

If Alfred had knew that that was the last time he would have seen Arthur in person, in years that is. He surely would've kept Arthur with him for a bit longer-even if it meant that he was angering Miss Morrígan. At least Alfred would've kissed him goodbye.

Seriously, it was too bad Alfred had overslept the next day.


End file.
